
*0 o. ♦rf V* * * A <>»©♦** -Cr 

1,0 °v> Sr/ik: \ / .* 

* ^oV .Mm#* v*cr ° 


▼ x 'V - ft 




\ ‘^*‘ *9 ^ *» !?^* ^ °o ‘1?r?V 0 V ® ^ o s? 

L°. ^ ,# ‘JsSa^f* ^ ^ *>vVa % ^ ^ * d2P& • ^ ^ ^ <£* ♦VSfe 

?. vf :i|ol^- v*r ;$mWL°, °o»v "J®; Vsr -jFi 

*« xvV^x aV/yf&XSsS * .V** -C, »r> *1 . V-* * 






* V 


’W ‘‘’^fe’”. "bK 

'» .*«°<* viijR.* 

iV 0_ t^clv^x* £ q 


L < 

f © aV^. o Y/// a ^A\W * U V -• 

<$/ ^ ‘V^C^4* A? '**, * 

A <* «*o * & * .6** ^ 


A vP 

•• / \ ..... , 

£ o °JL* i ^ 


• aV^. © 

« # ^ •, 

* ^ ... ^ '••» 



^ V°“>° . — , V*V V'*‘‘ 0 <- 6 .....\™ 

© r ‘^^8 ; *^fllf& 0 j ’ o %, ***^^^°* vlSR* >°^ 

«'#,^ f aO V ''s** 0 * 


4 


v ‘•-••> v .. 'v^** s r \ *7tr~'\<p ^yr^ry ./ 

r 



: V * 

% c> 'Crv *• 

x^« v x. 


^ ^ *»M*’ V 5 

^■;- 


j>A. • 

/Jl> vs o 





'O'* 

iv '.Hf; 

* ♦ t? J,V ,Ul 

° 4ir ♦Ajggir ^ 
'’bv* +j.<$ 


yf- 

A «/* 


>• • 


a.” ^ -''Sjjjtyr,* 4^ °« 

a 6 %. ♦■'tUt* < 4. 

. ?° T -^m- .'J9Hl£* ^d» • 

*° ^ ^illR , * a ^° '%.. *.!Sl§S",° 




r .1^- ^ ,0* 

^d 


/ <$ \ . 


: ^d 5 




o # « 


* • • 


sr % ° °<« * 

**v «> ^ 

f/ <s>* . .. ^ 


o ft o 


> £ ^ . 

^ , . . .JV*- T > 0 '. , . . 


,- 0 4°% 

’ * °- "c\ ' .0^ .»*_•>• ^ * 

*• ,* 

^P -0^ Q°" •* **0 A^ . i 


'^❖ v .’AWA* V ^ * 




0 N 0 


v e y * °* C> 

^ *? »V\V/k' ^ ,< 
w ;§mM,\ ' 1 *$ 

•* Tplnpi? © aV«** 

^ ^ V0K* . ** ^ 


,0 7 yis7o a*> m l i a 




& 




&« '+v 

pj>°+ 


f : m A 

* r\ v-. # s 


; 


^ * * . 
> o, 


r; «p^k # -i 








°^ 


; v V A 9 \iafer.^ .^^vV v<^ ,-•.. V “ , . 
































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































HOWTOBEGOOD STORIES 















































* 






















N 










• . 











HOWTOBEGOOD 

STORIES 

BY 

EDITH CUSHING DERBYSHIRE 

WITH A FRONTISPIECE IN COLOR AND 
ELEVEN ILLUSTRATIONS IN 
BLACK- AND- WHITE 
BY NOBLE IVES \ 



NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



Copyright , iqi8, by 
Frederick A. Stokes Company 

All rights reserved , including that of translation 
into foreign languages 


.5/ CL 501745 


t/ 



TO 

EDITH AND ANNE AND BOBBY 


























































































































































































































































































































































II 











































































































































































































































































CONTENTS 


Sabina’s Stumbling-stone I 

Sam-Smarty 12 

A Fairy House-cleaning 22 

The Giant Who Lived in House Mountain 29 

The Secret of the Right Side of the Bed 43 

“Billy-Forgot” 52 

The Witch Princess 66 

<£ Dickey-Didn’t-Mean-To” ... 73 

Barbara and the Wave Fairies 81 

The Boy Who Lived Under a Dump-heap 88 

The Princess Who Lived in a Glass House 99 

“I Can’t” 108 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ ‘Take him home on your horse, and give him another 

CHANCE’ ” Frontispiece 

PAGE 

“ ‘I HAVE BEEN WATCHING YOU A LONG TIME, AND I’VE SEEN THAT 

ROCK GROWING’ ” 7 

“Polly kept still, she was so afraid of saying something to 

DISPLEASE THE FAIRY” 2 5 

“When she wasn’t looking, he did some scrubbing too” . 35 

“She faded away, and there was nothing left but a light 

where she had been” 47 

“ ‘A SPLENDID PIECE OF WORK, YELLOW-HAMMER’ ” . .63 

“She really did try to smile; though she didn’t know how 

AT ALL” 69 

“ ‘I THOUGHT YOU WERE A BOOK, MOTHER GOOSE,’ SAID DlCKEY” . 77 

“She WANTED VERY MUCH TO GO INTO THE WATER, BUT DID NOT 

DARE” 83 

“ ‘O, Mother, why didn’t you get me out of this before?’ ” . 95 

“ ‘He shall stop!’ she cried” 103 

“ ‘I’LL bring him back, Lady Emily,’ he called. ‘I CAN !’” . 113 



HOWTOBEGOOD STORIES 


SABINA’S STUMBLING-STONE 

O NCE upon a time there was a little girl named Sa- 
bina, who never would come when she was called. 
No matter who called, or how important it might be 
that Sabina should hurry, she would always call back, “Wait a 
minute!” and then the worst of it was, it would often be five 
or ten minutes instead of just one. 

She was not really such a very horrid little girl, except 
for this one thing, but it seemed as if she could not do what 
she was told. Of course, waiting did not do a bit of good, 
because she had to go in the end, anyway; and when you are 
told to do something you don’t want to do, it is really much 
easier to do it right away, and have it over, instead of putting 
it off — don’t you think so? The strange thing was, though, 
that Sabina always said, “Wait a minute,” even though it was 
something she liked doing. 

One day Sabina’s mother spoke to her about this; and Sa- 
bina said, “Well, Mother, you often say, ‘Wait a minute’ or, 
‘I can’t come just now; you’ll have to wait till I finish this,’ 
when I ask you to do something or go somewhere.” 

Mother smiled (Sabina liked to see her smile: she had such 
a very smiling face) and answered: 

“I know, darling, but that is different. Grown-up people 
[i] 


Howtohegood Stories 

can’t always stop what they are doing, when little girls call; 
but with little people it is different. When we are little we 
have to learn to mind, so that when we are grown up we shall 
know how. .Why, even Mother has to know how.” 

But what her mother said did not seem to do any good. 
Sabina remembered perhaps for one day, and came quickly 
when she was called, but the next day she forgot again, or 
wouldn’t remember. 

It was not only with her mother and father and nurse 
either; even with the girls and boys who came to play with her, 
she was always saying, “Wait a minute.” She never would 
do what they asked, or play what they wanted to play, with- 
out keeping them waiting; and if some one said, “Come on, 
Sabina, let’s play ‘Puss-in-the-Corner,’ ” Sabina would answer, 
“Well, wait a minute, I want to make a sand pie first.” Or if 
some one said, “Let’s make sand pies,” Sabina found some 
other excuse for “waiting a minute.” 

When the snow all melted, and the days grew warm, and 
the little buds that had been sleeping all winter under the snow 
began to wake up and open into flowers, and the trees grew 
green, and all the world was fresh and smiling, the children 
used to go into the woods and pick the precious little violets. 
Sabina loved the violets and Mother was so happy when 
she brought them to her. Often Mother went out too, and Sa- 
bina liked that better than going with any one else. 

“When we are in the woods, Mother,” Sabina said one day, 
“you never seem grown up at all, and the shine in your eyes 
is so pretty.” 

“Oh, Sabina darling, I’m so happy to be with you in the 

[ 2 ] 


Sabina s Stumbling-stone 

woods, I don’t feel grown up. Come let’s see if there are any 
more violets here.” 

One day when all the fields and woods were green Mother 
said they should have a picnic. They were to go out and gather 
flowers — Mother, Sabina, and Betty and Bobby, two friends 
of Sabina’s — and then have lunch in the woods — a “truly” pic- 
nic. Mother prepared a basket full of good things: sandwiches 
spread with butter and marmalade, cookies and ginger-bread, 
and as a great treat some grape juice to drink. 

The night before Mother had said : “Now, Sabina, we’re 
going to start at eleven o’clock. Everything will be ready, and 
Betty and Bobby will be here. Be sure you are ready too and 
don’t keep us waiting.” 

A little before eleven, Sabina went out into the garden. 
There was nothing she had to do; she was all dressed, and 
everything was ready; she was just sitting there until it was 
time to go. 

Betty and Bobby arrived, and they all called: 

“Come on, Sabina ; we’re going to start.” 

“Wait a minute!” Sabina called back. 

“Hurry up!” called Bobby again. “What are you doing? 
Aren’t you ready?” 

And Mother called too: “Come, Sabina, come; we’re 
going.” 

“Yes, I’ll come,” said Sabina, “but just wait a minute.” 

She really did get up, and started to run, but when she tried 
to lift her right foot, she could not move. 

“Oh, wait a minute, wait!” Sabina called out. 

But Betty and Bobby were already running on ahead, and 

[3l 


Howtobegood Stories 


Mother was following, and though it gave her a pain in her 
heart to go without Sabina, she had to call back: 

“No, Sabina, we can’t wait any longer; you’ll have to stay 
at home.” 

“O Mother, wait, wait — I can’t come!” Sabina cried, try- 
ing to lift her foot again, and finding that she could not move. 

But Mother was gone. And there sat Sabina in the gar- 
den, all alone, and not able to get up. 

“Oh! oh!” she sobbed. “Why can’t I lift my foot? O 
dear me! O dear me! And they will have such a beautiful 
time, getting violets, and eating sandwiches, cookies, and gin- 
ger-bread. And Mother will play games with them afterward, 
and I can’t even get into the house to ask for a piece of bread 
and butter!” 

She put her head down in her lap, and cried and cried. 

No one heard her or came to her; and after a while she 
was so tired from crying, she lay down on the grass and put her 
head on the mound of a flower-bed. Everything was very quiet, 
and her eyes burned so from the tears, she shut them for a mo- 
ment. It seemed to her she must always lie there ; no one would 
hear her if she called, and she didn’t believe any one would 
ever come to look for her, and she was sure she would never 
be able to walk again. She could hear the birds singing; they 
didn’t need any feet, they had wings and could fly. 

“Well, they could not fly if they were lazy,” Sabina 
thought she heard a voice say. “If they did not use their wings 
they would forget how to fly.” 

It was a sharp, quick voice that made Sabina sit up and 
look around. 


[4l 


Sabina s Stumbling-stone 

“What did you say? Who’s talking to me?” asked Sabina, 
very much surprised. 

“I said, if they did not use their wings, they would forget 
how to fly; and I’m talking to you. If you are not too lazy to 
look around you’ll see me, but you’ll have to look now, not, 
‘Wait a minute.’ ” 

“Well, I will look now, but you needn’t be so disagreeable 
about it, Cross-Patch, whoever you are,” answered Sabina, get- 
ting quite angry. 

“Yes, I do need to be cross, Lazy-Bones,” the same quick 
little voice answered. 

“I’m not Lazy-Bones!” said Sabina, starting to get up; 
but she gave a little cry, and sat down again. 

Her foot hurt so terribly, she could not stand. In getting 
up though she turned her head, and there stood a fairy in one 
of the pink tulips! She was standing still for a moment but 
she seemed just ready to fly, or to dance away. 

“Oh, there you are !” said Sabina, and though she did feel 
very cross with the fairy for calling her “Lazy-Bones,” she 
could not help looking at her, she was so pretty in her dress 
of thistle-down. 

“Yes,” said the fairy, “here I am! It took you long 
enough to find me.” 

“It’s all very well for you to talk about hurrying, when 
you have feet, and wings too if your feet won’t work, but I 
think it is very horrid to scold a little girl who can’t lift up her 
foot, and is all alone, and may not be able to get up again,” 
sobbed Sabina. “If one of your feet, or wings, hurt the way 
my right foot does, and your eyes burned, and you wanted 

[ 5 ] 


Howtobegood Stories 

your mother, you wouldn’t be dancing inside that tulip and 
scolding. I can’t help it that my foot won’t work.” 

“Oh, but you can help it; that’s why I’m so cross with 
you,” answered the fairy. “If you were lame I should be sorry 
for you, and fly to you with stories of Fairyland, and take you 
there too, sometimes; but I can’t be sorry for a Stay-Behind 
Lazy-Bones.” 

“Stay-Behind Lazy-Bones?” said Sabina. “I didn’t stay 
behind on purpose. I wanted to go, but they wouldn’t wait. 
What do you know about it, anyway? Who are you?” 

“I’m Fairy Will-o’-the-Wisp,” answered the fairy, flying on 
to another tulip nearer Sabina, “and I know all about it. I 
have been watching you a long time, and I’ve seen that rock 
growing.” 

“Seen that rock growing?” asked Sabina, so surprised she 
forgot to feel cross for a minute. “What rock? I don’t see 
any rocks in the garden.” 

“Take off your shoe and stocking and you’ll see where it’s 
growing,” said Fairy Will-o’-the-Wisp. 

“How silly!” said Sabina, getting cross again. “I never 
knew fairies were so silly. How can taking off my shoe and 
stocking make me see a rock?” 

“Very well,” answered Fairy Will-o’-the-Wisp ; “do as you 
like! Your mother has tried to help you, and you wouldn’t 
be helped; and now that I’ve come, you won’t let me help you 
either; so you can just keep on doing what you like without 
thinking of any one else, and let the rocks grow.” 

And Fairy Will-o’-the-Wisp opened her wings to fly away. 

“Oh, please, please!” Sabina called out. “I will do what 

[ 6 ] 



“I HAVE BEEN WATCHING YOU A LONG TIME, AND I’VE 
SEEN THAT ROCK GROWING” 

[7] 




















































































































































1 





































































































































































































































































































































































































Sabina s Stumbling -stone 

you say ! Only it did seem queer that I should have to take off 
my shoe and stocking to be able to see a rock.” 

“Yes, that’s the trouble with you,” answered Fairy Will-o’- 
the-Wisp. “You think anything you don’t want to do is silly. 
You acted the same way with your mother. . . . Well, hurry 
up; I can’t stay here much longer.” 

“Which shoe shall I take off? Not the one on the foot 
that hurts?” 

“Yes, that’s the one you must take off.” 

Sabina began to feel that she must mind this little fairy, no 
matter how it hurt, so she tried to lift her foot. 

“Ow-ow!” cried Sabina. “I can’t!” 

“Go on, go on!” said Fairy Will-o’-the-Wisp, in the same 
quick tone. “Pull hard and try to be brave.” 

Sabina gave one big pull and the shoe and stocking came 
off. As they came she understood what Fairy Will-o’-the-Wisp 
meant; for growing on to her big toe was a rock! Sabina 
was so surprised she couldn’t do anything at first but look at 
it. At last she said: 

“I’ve had little stones get into my shoe, but how could a 
rock get in my toe?” and she began to pull it. 

“No, no,” called the fairy; “don’t try to do that. You 
can’t pull it off; it’s growing into your toe, and no pulling will 
get it off.” 

“What do you mean?” asked Sabina, getting frightened. 
“Will that rock always be there and shall I never be able to 
walk again? Can’t you wave your wand and make it come 
off?” 

“No; but listen,” said Fairy Will-o’-the-Wisp, “and stop 

[ 9 ] 


Howtobegood Stories 

crying. You know the fairies can only help. Your mother 
and father help you all they can; and we fairies love all the 
children, of course, but you can’t just sit down when you want 
something and think we are going to wave our wands and make 
everything come to you. That rock has been growing a long 
time, though you have not seen it, and it can’t go away all in 
a minute; but if you listen to me, I’ll tell you how you can get 
rid of it. Wipe your eyes, and stop crying and listen.” 

“Yes,” said Sabina, very meek now. “But what has made 
it grow?” 

“You have,” answered the fairy. 

“I have? How could I when I didn’t even see it?” 

“Why, don’t you know how when any one calls you, in- 
stead of going at once you always say, ‘Wait a minute.’ 
Don’t you remember how often your mother has told you that 
you must come when you are called? She has been very pa- 
tient with you, but no one can keep on forever ‘waiting a 
minute.’ You see every time you have been lazy and waited 
a minute the rock has grown bigger, until now it’s so big you 
can’t lift your foot.” 

“Oh, Fairy Will-o’-the-Wisp, I understand now. Mother 
has told me again and again I must learn to mind, but I 
wouldn’t — and now it’s too late !” And very sorry tears came 
into her eyes. 

“No,” answered Fairy Will-o’-the-Wisp, in a gentler voice; 
“it’s never too late. Just do as I tell you; it will be hard, and 
hurt, but it’s the only way to melt the rock. You’ll have to hop 
on one foot for a while, but always go when you are called, 
and after a time the rock will disappear and you’ll have both 

[TO] 


Sabina s Stumbling-stone 

feet to walk on again. Now, I must go. I have to make a call 
on the robin who is sitting on her nest in the old tree down in 
the field. Good-by.” 

“Oh, don’t leave me yet. Stay and help me up, won’t 
you?” called Sabina. 

But Fairy Will-o’-the-Wisp had flown away. 

Sabina closed her eyes for a minute to think it all over; 
and then she heard Mother’s voice calling: “Sabina!” 

“Wait— oh, no, I mustn’t say that.” She remembered just 
in time and called back : “Yes, Mother, Fm coming.” 

It hurt dreadfully to get up on one foot, but Sabma was 
brave, and hopped into the house as fast as she could. 

“Why, Sabina darling, what is the matter?” asked Mother. 
“I hated to leave you, my precious, but we can’t always ‘wait 
a minute’ you know, and we had to go.” 

“I’ve got a rock on my toe, Mother, but Fairy Will-o’- 
the-Wisp said it would melt away after a while if I always 
tried to come when I was called. I’ll tell you all about it if 
you’ll take me on your lap.” 

It was as Fairy Will-o’-the-Wisp had said: it took some 
time for the rock to melt, it had been such a long time grow- 
ing. And it was very hard for Sabina to hop on one foot ; but 
she kept on trying, and one beautiful morning she found the 
rock had all melted, and she was able to use both feet again. 

After that Fairy Will-o’-the-Wisp came often and talked to 
her when she was in the garden, and Sabina learned to go so 
quickly when she was called that her feet seemed to dance 
along instead of walk, and she was like a little Fairy Will- 
o’-the-Wisp herself. 


[ii] 


SAM-S MARTY 

O NCE upon a time there was a boy who thought he 
“knew it all.” His name was Samuel Egbert Mor- 
ten, but they called him “Sam.” His father was a 
colonel in the army, and they lived on the parade ground of 
a military post, where they could see the soldiers drill. Sam 
had a tent with a flag he could hoist up and down, and he had 
a soldier’s suit, and a sword, and a gun, and Daddy had prom- 
ised to give him a canteen (what the soldiers carry water in, 
you know) on his next birthday. 

Sam and his friends had an army and used to fight excit- 
ing battles down in the glen behind Barracks. Sam was the 
head of the army. He just made himself general because he 
said he knew how to fight better than any of the other boys. 

“You can be colonel, John White,” he said the day they 
got up their army; “and, Beverly, you can be major; and, 
Brooke, you can be captain; and the rest of you can just be 
soldiers — unless I decide to have you Germans.” 

“Not on your life!” said the other boys. “We’ll be sol- 
diers till we get promoted, but we won’t be Germans!” 

“Well,” said Sam very grandly, “I’ll try you as soldiers 
first, anyway.” 

Medora, the only girl they allowed to play with them, was 
[ 12 ] 


Sam-Smarty 

the Red Cross nurse and took care of them when they were 
wounded. 

Sam was seven, and went to school. He said he knew 
his “tables” better than any of the other boys, and used to 
laugh at John White who did not “say his off” as fast as he did. 

“Pooh, are you still on the three table,” he asked John 
White one day at school. “I’ve finished that long ago!” 

Miss Mary, who taught the school, heard him, and asked : 

“Sam, how much are three times three?” 

“Oh, a hundred, I reckon — I’ve finished tables now.” 

The other boys thought he was very smart to dare to an- 
swer Miss Mary that way — and Sam thought so too. 

“You may think you have finished,” she said. “But I 
think you had better begin again. You will stay in after school, 
Sam, and write your three table ten times.” 

Sam did not feel quite so smart! John White, and Bev- 
erly, and Brooke, were going home to lunch with him that day, 
and they had planned a big battle down in the woods behind 
the house. But it wasn’t so easy to get around Miss Mary as 
you might think, and Sam had to sit there after all the other 
children had gone and write, “3 x 1 = 3, 3 X 2 = 6 , 
3x3 = 9” all the way to twelve, ten times over. 

“Now you may go, Sam; and to-morrow please have your 
manners as well as your tables,” said Miss Mary, when he had 
finished. 

“Yes, ma’am,” said Sam, quite meekly. 

When he finally got out of school, he found John White, 
and Beverly, and Brooke, waiting for him outside. 

“Well, here I am,” said Sam, not so meek now. “Come 

[13] 


Howtobegood Stories 

on ! Let’s have a race to the creek. One-two-three — go ! I bet 
I’ll beat you,” and off they went. 

“I won!” shouted Sam. 

“No, you didn’t,” said Beverly; “John White got there 
first.” 

“He didn’t!” 

“He did !” 

“He did not!” 

Just then Colonel Morten came along. 

“What’s the trouble, boys? Can’t settle who won the 
race?” 

“No, sir,” said Brooke. “Sam says he did, and Beverly 
says John White did, and I don’t know.” 

“ I did, Dad,” said Sam. 

“Well, suppose you try it again,” said Colonel Morten. 
“Now, from that tree. One-two-three — go!” 

But Sam was cross, what boys call “mad,” and wouldn’t 

run. 

“You’re not a sport, Sam,” said Colonel Morten; “I’m 
ashamed of you,” and walked on. 

“Let’s go home and get on our uniforms,” said Brooke. 
“The other boys will be waiting for us.” 

Sam was still mad, but as they walked up the hill he got 
over it. 

“You know, a real English general is coming to stay with 
us to-night,” he said. “Won’t that be great? He’ll tell me 
all about the trenches.” 

“Gee!” said Beverly. “I wish we could see him.” 

“Well, maybe you can; he’s coming late this afternoon.” 
[14] 


Sam-Smarty 

When they got over to Sam’s the boys were all there, and 
Medora, Miss-Red-Cross, was waiting too, ready to go into 
battle with them. They rushed down into the dell behind Bar- 
racks. It was a glorious battle. Sam gave the orders, of course; 
and at first “carried all before him.” But after a while John 
White said he thought he ought to give some commands, as he 
was colonel. 

“No,” said Sam; “I’m the head.” 

“Who made you the head?” 

“I did, of course, ’cause my father’s a colonel in the army, 
and I know.” 

“Well, my father’s in the army too!” 

“Yes, but he’s not as good as my father!” 

“He is!” 

“He isn’t. And I won’t play any more. And you needn’t 
come to dinner,” said Sam, throwing down his gun and going 
up toward his house. He thought Beverly and Brooke were 
following him, but when he looked around they were going 
off down the glen behind John White and the other boys, and 
Miss-Red-Cross was with them. 

“Here, Medora,” he called out, “you stay and have lunch 
with me. Don’t go with them; they don’t know anything.” 

Miss-Red-Cross shook her curls. “H’m, h’m! ‘Smarty 
had a party and nobody came’!” she called back, and danced 
away. 

So General Samuel Egbert Morten had a lonely lunch, 
for Mother and Daddy had gone out that day. Never mind, 
though: the English general was coming, and the other boys 
wouldn’t see him. 


[G] 


Howtobegood Stories 


Mother came in just before tea. She found Sam looking 
very grumpy. 

“What’s the matter, General Sam?” she asked. “Didn’t 
you have a good time with the boys to-day?” 

“No,” said Sam, looking still more grumpy; “they don’t 
know anything.” 

“Oh,” said Mother, “and do you know it all? I’m afraid 
you’re going to have a fall some day ! But can’t you smile a 
little, and give me one kiss?” Mother was smiling herself 
and looked very pretty, so Sam gave her a kiss and stopped 
scowling. 

“May I wear my uniform this evening, Mummy?” 

“Yes, if you like,” Mother answered, laughing. “Go up 
and get your hands and face washed now; Daddy has gone to 
the station to meet General Southcoat.” 

Sam went up, and even scrubbed his ears without being 
told, coming down very clean and shining as the General drove 
up. He was tall and straight, and his eyes looked right at 
you. 

“You look just the same, Eleanor,” he said to Mrs. Morten, 
“as you did that summer in England.” 

“Thank you,” said Mother, laughing. “Come here, 
Sammy; this is our boy. He has been allowed to stay up this 
evening to feast his eyes on a real general who has been in the 
trenches.” 

Sam saluted, and the General returned the salute. 

“Ah, a soldier himself, eh?” 

“Yes, sir,” said Sam. “I’m the head of the army because I 
[16] 


Sam-Smarty 

know all about it better than the other boys. And that’s my 
tent out there; I’ll show it to you if you like.” 

“Delighted!” said the General; and Sam proudly took h im 
out, thinking all the time how the other boys had “got left.” 
But as they came to the glen, John White, Beverly, Brooke 
and all the rest, with Miss-Red-Cross too, stood at salute. 

“Ah,” said the General, saluting, “here’s the army; a fine 
looking lot of men.” 

Oh, how mad Sam was! 

Sam was allowed to sit up that evening until half-past 
eight. General Southcoat did not talk about himself, though, 
as Sam thought he would. He told a little about the trenches, 
but mostly he talked with Mother about “old times.” 

When it was time for Sam to go to bed, he saluted the Gen- 
eral, and Mother went up to tuck him in, as she always did. 

“I don’t believe he’s much account,” said Sam as he got 
into bed ; “he didn’t say a word about what he had done.” 

“No,” said Mother; “he leaves that for other people, which 
is a better plan. Good-night, Sammy; sleep well, and God bless 
you.” 

Mother went downstairs. Sam could hear the murmur of 
voices on the veranda. Usually it made him feel comfortable 
and drowsy, but to-night he tossed from one side of the bed to 
the other. 

“Those boys don’t know anything,” he kept saying to him- 
self ; “and I don’t care, I do!" 

“Of course you do,” said a mocking voice beside him. 
“Come, jump on behind and let’s show them a few things!” 

Sam sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes to make sure that 

[17] 


Howtobegood Stories 

he was not dreaming. There on his pillow was a goblin, with 
eyes that winked, and blinked, a funny turn-up nose, and a 
mouth that was just a laugh. He had a sword in his hand, 
a helmet on his head, and was mounted on a great horse-fly. 

“Pooh,” said Sam, very wide awake now, “you can’t fool 
me! That’s not a horse you’re on, it’s a fly; that sword’s noth- 
ing but a blade of grass; and that helmet’s just a thistle!” 

“All right,” laughed the goblin, poking Sam in the side 
with the blade of grass; “just as you say.” 

“Ow!” yelled Sam. “What are you trying to do?” 

“It’s only a blade of grass, Sam-Smarty,” laughed the gob- 
lin, bumping his head against Sam’s cheek. 

“Here, keep your helmet away from my face; don’t you 
know it hurts?” 

“It’s only a thistle, Sam-Smarty,” the goblin laughed out 
again. 

“Well, stop it, I tell you, and get out of here; I’ll swat 
you and your old horse-fly — just wait!” 

Sam knelt up in bed and grabbed the pillow to hit at the 
fly; but before he got at him, he felt a kick in the ribs, and 
rolled on to the floor. 

“Where are you, Sam-Smarty?” called the goblin. “I’d like 
to take you and show you to the other Hob-Gobs. A general 
that can’t hurt a fly ! Hee, hi !” 

“Get out !” shouted Sam, so angry he didn’t know what to 
do. “It wasn’t a fly ; your horse kicked me in the ribs.” 

“All right, just as you say. I must be off! We’ve got to 
be ready to meet the Know-It-Alls to-night. Shoo-fly” — and 
he whizzed away. 

[iB] 


Sam-Smarty 

Sam ran to the window trying to catch him, but he lost 
his balance and fell into the middle of the trumpet vine that 
went up the side of the house. It gave him a bounce, but he 
wasn’t hurt. All around him were Trumpeters in gorgeous red 
uniforms, blowing blasts on their trumpets. 

“Toot-toot! Toot-toot! You can’t beat us! You can’t 
beat us ! Make way, make way, for the Know-It-Alls. We’re 
going to march on the Hob-Gobs, and the world will be ours ! 
Toot-toot! Toot-toot!’’ 

“Are you going to have a battle?” asked Sam, very much 
excited. “I’ll be your general — I’m a fine general, and I’d like 
to get at one of those Hob-Gobs myself.” 

“Can’t lead us! Can’t lead us! Toot-toot! Make way 
for the Know-It-Alls.” 

“Stop making such a noise,” Sam yelled at the top of his 
voice, “and get in line for the battle; they’ll be on us before 
we know it. One of them was here a minute ago. They move 
quietly, and very fast, and you don’t know they’re coming till 
they’ve got you.” 

“Toot-toot! Toot-toot! Such people can’t hurt us,” blew 
a magnificent Trumpeter. “One blow would send them fly- 
ing. Toot-toot! Make way, make way, for the Know-It-Alls!” 

A light flashed, and Sam saw the Hob-Gobs riding toward 
them, Goblin Just-As-You-Say at the head. 

“They’re here! They’re here!” shouted Sam. “What shall 
we do? Where’s the commanding officer?” 

“Here,” blew the magnificent Trumpeter. 

“No, here,” blew another. 

“Don’t take orders from them — I’m the one,” blew a third. 

r>9] 


Howtobegood Stories 

In the midst of all the blasts the Hob-Gobs rode quietly on 
into the very face of the enemy. 

“You are the leader of the Know-It-Alls, Sam-Smarty,” 
laughed out Goblin Just-As-You-Say, pointing his sword 
straight at him. “I challenge you to the fight !” 

Sam looked wildly around. 

“Here,” blew one of the Trumpeters, handing him a horn. 
“Take this and blow him up. Make way, make way, for the 
Know-It-Alls !” 

Blow — Smash — Bang! A terrible noise. Sam saw the 

Trumpeters double up all around him Then there was a 

great stillness. . . . 

“Why, what is this?” said a voice. 

“Oh, just another Know-It-All with the wind knocked out 
of him ; you can’t do anything for him, Miss-Red-Cross.” 

Miss-Red-Cross bent down. 

“Poor thing, I can’t help feeling sorry for him.” 

Sam opened his eyes. 

“Why, Sam-Smarty!” 

“I’m dead, aren’t I?” whispered Sam in a feeble voice. 

“Let me feel your pulse; no, you’ve got enough wind left 
to breathe with, if you don’t blow it all out.” 

Sam looked very meek; he didn’t say anything, just looked 
pleadingly up into Miss-Red-Cross’s face. 

“Take him home on your horse, Goblin,” said Miss-Red- 
Cross, “and give him another chance.” . . . 

The next morning Sam went down to breakfast looking as 
if he were thinking of something very hard. He did more lis- 
tening than talking, at the table, which was quite unusual for 
[ 20 ] 


Sam-Smarty 

him. On the way to school he met John White and the other 
boys. 

“Say, I’m sorry I was so mean yesterday, John White. 
Suppose you be general for a while, and I’ll just be a soldier!” 




A FAIRY HOUSE-CLEANING 


NCE upon a time there was a little girl who said, “I 



won’t !” When she was told to do a thing, she would 


scowl, and look very cross, and say, “I won’t!” If 


her mother said, “Come, Polly, pick up your playthings be- 
fore you go out,” Polly would say, “I won’t!” “Let mother tie 
the ribbon on your hair.” “I won’t!” Polly would say again. 
“Eat your dinner like a good girl.” “I won’t!” She really 
was the most disagreeable little girl you ever knew. 

Well, she kept on saying “I won’t!” so much she couldn’t 
say anything else. She forgot altogether how to say, “Yes, 
please, I will,” and once when her grandmother came to see 
her with a box of candy, and said, “Polly, take a piece of 
candy,” Polly said, “I won’t!” and Grandmother shut up the 
box. Polly wanted the candy very much, and began to cry, but 
no one could find out what she was crying about. You see 
she didn’t know that her tongue had said, “I won’t!” instead 
of, “I will, please.” 

Another day she went to a party where they had the most 
delicious ice-cream and cake, and the pretty lady who was 
helping the children, said, “You’ll have some ice-cream, won’t 
you, Polly?” “I won’t!” said Polly. It was all in lovely forms, 
and the one the pretty lady was putting down in front of her 


[ 22 ] 


A Fairy House-Cleaning 

was an ice-cream squirrel with a curly tail, and of course Polly 
wanted it; but the lady took the plate away, saying, “What a 
queer little girl not to like ice-cream.” Another pretty lady 
came with the cake and said, “Will you have a piece of cake, 
Polly?” And again all Polly could say was, “I won’t!” So 
she didn’t have anything to eat at the party, and cried all the 
way home. 

When she got back, Mother was waiting for her, and said, 
“Well, Polly darling, did you have a good time at the party? 
Come and tell Mother all about it.” She put out her arms to 
take Polly on her lap, but Polly said, “I won’t!” so Mother 
left her, and Polly went to bed crying. 

The Dream-Fairy heard her, and sang: 

“Come sail with me on the sea of sleep, 

And into fairyland you shall peep ; 

Where fairies dance in the golden sun, 

And all the children have such fun. 

No one cries or is naughty there, 

And no one thinks of any care, 

But every one’s merry, and glad, and gay, 

And all the shadows fly away. 

Oh, come and sail on the sea of sleep, 

And into fairyland you shall peep.” 

Polly shut her eyes all wet with tears, and thought, “Oh, 
how I’d love to go; but I’m afraid to say anything, because 
people always seem to do just what I don’t want, when I speak. 
Perhaps if I put out my arms she’ll know I want to go.” 

And the Dream-Fairy stepped out of a lady-slipper, and 
took Polly in her arms, and put her into the slipper, and the 

[23] 


Howtobegood Stories 

wind blew them along the sea of sleep, till they came to the 
gates of fairyland. All the time they were sailing, Polly kept 
still, she was so afraid of saying something to displease the 
fairy. It was beautiful to feel the cool wind blowing in her 
face; it dried up the tears. And when they got to fairyland it 
was just as the Dream-Fairy had sung, they were all dancing 
in the golden sunshine, and every one was smiling. “Oh,” 
thought Polly, “I wish I could stay here always.” There was 
a beautiful garden of flowers, and out of each flower came a 
fairy. 

The Pansy-Fairy, who always has sweet thoughts, came up 
to Polly and said, “Where have you come from, little sister, 
and why are your cheeks all salt, so when I kiss you I get a 
bad taste?” 

“Oh,” said Polly, “have my cheeks turned to salt? I 
didn’t know it.” 

“Yes,” said the Dream-Fairy to the Pansy-Fairy, “it’s from 
her tears.” 

“Tears!” said the Pansy-Fairy. “Why, every one is happy 
in fairyland. Tell me, why do you cry?” 

Polly tried to tell, but her tongue caught, and she said, “I 
won’t !” and scowled. And the scowl made all the fairies shiver 
and go back into the flowers. The singing and dancing 
stopped, and she heard nothing but the wind sighing. “What’s 
the matter?” said Polly. “Oh, what’s the matter? Whenever 
I speak every one goes away. What shall I do?” 

The little Violet-Fairy, who is very sweet and gentle, 
peeped out from a violet and said, “Don’t you know what 
[24] 



“POLLY KEPT STILL, SHE WAS SO AFRAID OF SAYING SOMETHING 

TO DISPLEASE THE FAIRY” 

[25] 









A Fairy House-Cleaning 

you’ve done, little sister? We can’t stay when you speak such 
cross words, and look like a thunder-storm.” 

“What cross words did I say?” asked Polly, much sur- 
prised. “I just said, ‘Yes, I’ll tell you.’ ” 

“No, no,” said the Violet-Fairy, gently; “you said, ‘I 
won’t!’” And the Violet-Fairy trembled so when she spoke 
the words, she had to sit down on a violet leaf. 

“Oh,” sobbed Polly, “I didn’t know it. I must have said 
‘I won’t!’ to Grandmother the other day, and at the party this 
afternoon, and to Mother to-night, and that’s why they all went 
away. Oh, what shall I do?” 

The Pansy-Fairy looked out again from a purple pansy, 
and said, “We’ll ask Queen-Rose what you can do.” 

Queen-Rose came out of her flower and looked at Polly. 

“It must be her tongue,” she said. “Have you often said 
‘I won’t!’ on purpose, my dear?” 

“Yes, Queen-Rose, I have,” sobbed Polly, “but I don’t 
want to any more.” 

“It is her tongue,” said Queen-Rose. “I’ll send for Fairy- 
Sage-brush to sweep it clean.” 

Fairy-Sage-brush was a very energetic little fairy with a 
broom, and Queen-Rose told her to sweep Polly’s tongue all 
clean. It had so many naughty words on it, it took quite a 
long time to sweep it, but at last Fairy-Sage-brush said she 
thought it was all clean, and it would be perfectly safe for 
Polly to speak. 

“Thank you,” said Polly. “I’m so happy; and I’ll try to 
keep it all clean. Thank you, dear Fairies.” 

“Now,” said the Dream-Fairy, “come, and you shall see 

[27] 


Howtobegood Stories 

us dance; and you shall dance too, and play, and be happy 
with us, and then we’ll sail home again.” 

The next morning Polly woke up hearing her mother say : 
“Come, Polly, get up and get ready for school.” 

And Polly said, with her nice clean tongue: “Yes, Mother 
dear, I will.” 


[28] 


THE GIANT WHO LIVED IN HOUSE MOUNTAIN 


O NCE upon a time there was a Giant who lived in a 
mountain. It was called “House Mountain” because 
the people in the valley thought it looked like a 
house; but very few of them knew that the Giant lived there, 
and that it really was his house. 

Sheep grazed in the valley, little colts and calves kicked 
up their heels, birds sang, rosy-cheeked boys and girls laughed 
merrily, there were green fields, and bubbling brooks, and 
smiling gardens everywhere, save in one spot — just at the foot 
of the mountain, where Andy and Anne lived — The-Land-of- 
Don’t-Care. 

There, it was bare and brown ; nothing grew in the fields ; 
even the wild flowers, who are usually so good about blooming, 
got discouraged and asked Mr. Seed-Carrier- Wind to blow 
them somewhere else. The animals all died, for there was 
nothing to eat, and the birds flew away long before it was time 
to leave for the winter, finding it no place to bring up their 
children. They tried at first building their nests there, but 
some one always robbed them, throwing the eggs on the 
ground, and the poor mother birds would grieve for their 
babies, and fly sadly away. 

Andy and Anne, and the other boys and girls who lived 
[29] 


Howtobegood Stories 

in The Land-of-Don’t-Care, were not round and rosy and smil- 
ing; they were pale and dirty and cross-looking. They never 
brushed their hair, nor cleaned their teeth, nor washed their 
hands and faces. They never drank nice milk, nor ate good meat, 
and potatoes, and green vegetables; they just sucked long lico- 
rice sticks all the time : so of course they were thin and sick. No 
one ever thought of any one else, but each one grabbed for 
himself. They squabbled, and pinched, and punched, and 
pushed each other, and never said, “Excuse me,” but always, 
“I don’t care.” 

The place where Andy and Anne had come from was 
green and pretty, with nice little houses, and lovely gardens, 
and a red brick school-house. The children had plenty of time 
to play, but they had to take some time to go to school too. 
They could romp and race when school was out, but they had 
to come in before supper, to study their lessons for the next 
day. Sometimes Andy had to work in the garden, or Anne had 
to straighten up her room, and they had to wash their hands and 
faces, and brush their hair, and do a number of things they 
were “told.” 

Andy’s house was next door to Anne’s house, and they 
played together, and walked to school together every day. 
They liked to play, but they didn’t like to go to school. 

“Anne,” said Andy, one day, “I’m sick of being told to do 
things. Father and Mother are always telling me to do t hin gs 
I don’t want to do ; work in the garden, learn lessons, wash my 
hands and face, and brush my hair — all sorts of horrid things!” 

“Yes,” said Anne, “and I’m sick of being told not to do 
things : not to go out until I practise my scales, and not to stay 

[30] 


The Giant ^Xfho Lived in House JVLountain 

out too late, and not to suck licorice sticks — when they are bet- 
ter than anything else.” 

“Sure enough!” said Andy. 

“I wish,” said Anne wistfully, “there was a place where 
children could do just as they liked, and there were no fathers 
and mothers.” 

“So do I,” said Andy. “Look here, Anne, maybe there is! 
Over there at the foot of the mountain is a long way off; per- 
haps if we went there they couldn’t find us, and then we could 
do just as we liked.” 

“Oh,” said Anne, clapping her hands, “how lovely that 
would be ! Let’s try to find the way.” 

“All right,” said Andy. “I tell you, get up early to-mor- 
row morning before any one is awake, and meet me at the gate, 
and we’ll go.” 

So they had wandered away, and had come to The-Land- 
of-Don’t-Care, where they had found other boys and girls liv- 
ing too. 

At first they thought it was the loveliest place to live. 
There was no one to tell them what they must do; no clock 
struck the time to come in ; there wasn’t a school book to study, 
nor a piano to practise on; and you sucked all the licorice sticks 
you wanted, and played all day long. The only trouble was 
that, as nobody cared about what any one else wanted, but each 
one wanted to do as he liked, they all got to squabbling, and it 
was the noisiest place in the world, for every one talked at once, 
and no one listened to what any one else had to say. People 
who passed through the beautiful valley always wondered 

[3i] 


Howtohegood Stories 

what that noisy, wretched spot was, just at the foot of House 
Mountain. 

Now the Giant who lived in House Mountain was a giant 
who liked beautiful things. It was not bare and cold in his 
house, but trees grew up to the very door; and though the path 
to the top was steep and hard in places, laurel, and rhododen- 
dron, and ferns, and dogwood, and red-bud, grew all along the 
way, and the birds sang in the trees. 

Some giants are very ugly, with twisted faces, and crooked 
mouths, but this giant didn’t have that kind of face. He was 
very big, of course, and you had to look up to him to be able 
to see him, but he had a kind face. There wasn’t a mean grin 
on his mouth, but a broad smile that seemed to stretch out all 
over the house. 

Well, as I was saying, the Giant liked beautiful things, 
and when he looked down and saw that bare wretched spot, 
it did not please him. 

“All the rest of the land is bright and smiling,” he said, 
“save that one spot just below me! Did the Fairy Spring for- 
get to plant it, or has a plague come upon it? No friendly peo- 
ple, or merry children, seem to be playing there; only miser- 
able creatures, like worms, crawling about on the bare earth. 
I must see what they are.” 

The Giant had such long arms he did not have to go down 
from the mountain to get one of the creatures, he just bent over 
and picked it up. As he took it between his thumb and finger 
it kicked and squealed, and he saw that it had two legs, and 
two arms, two eyes, and two ears, a nose, and a mouth, and long 

[32] 


The Giant Who Lived in House JHountain 

tangled hair. Sounds of, “Ow! Ow!” and, “Oh! Oh!” came 
from its throat. 

“I’ll just let it lie there on the ground and kick until it 
quiets down, and then I can examine it more carefully. I 
wonder if they are all alike.” 

He bent over and picked up another: the same sort of 
creature, only it kicked a little harder, and squealed a little 
louder. He put it down on the grass beside the other. 

They kept on kicking and squirming and making queer 
noises, “Ow! Ow! Oh!” till at last one of them put out an 
arm and caught hold of the Giant’s leg. The other creature 
wriggled nearer and got on to the Giant’s foot. He wiggled 
his toes and the creature bounced up in the air. 

“Oh, Andy, a rock has blown me up !” 

“I don’t care, Anne; I’m under a tree, and I’m all right.” 

The Giant bent his knee and Andy went over backwards ! 
The Giant burst out laughing — a laugh that echoed all through 
the house, and sounded in the valley below. 

“Here’s a ‘kettle of fish’ — and plenty to fry for supper!” 

“We’re no ‘kettle of fish’ indeed,” screamed Anne. 

“And what do you mean by ‘frying’?” called out Andy. 

“Well, well,” said the Giant, in his big, kind voice, “I’ll 
put you in the guest-room for the night and see you in the 
morning.” 

He picked one up in each hand and put them in a great 
room that looked out on the other side of the valley. All night 
long Andy and Anne squabbled and squealed, but it didn’t 
disturb the Giant at all : he slept quite soundly. 

In the morning the sun filled the room with light, and be- 
[ 33 ] 


Howtobegood Stories 

low them they saw the green fields. It was so lovely they 
stopped squabbling and looked. 

“Are you hungry, Andy and Anne?” a great voice said, 
that made Andy almost jump out of his skin, and Anne put her 
fingers in her ears. “Here’s some breakfast for you. I eat 
mine by the vine, but I’ve saved these for you.” 

He put down a big dock leaf heaped up with beautiful 
wild strawberries, glistening with dew. 

Andy grabbed, and Anne grabbed, and the strawberries 
all spilt out and disappeared — there was not one left — even on 
the floor. 

“Here, here! Anne knocked them all off the plate!” 
called out Andy, as he saw the Giant striding away. 

“No, Andy grabbed them before I got a single one!” cried 
Anne. But the Giant strode on and never turned his head. 

They had nothing to eat all day and no supper that even- 
ing. You can imagine how hungry they were. They slept at 
night though, they were so tired. 

The next morning Anne said, “I am very hungry, Andy.” 

“I don’t care,” said Andy. “I am hungry too.” 

“Andy, I’ve been thinking! Yesterday when the Giant 
brought our breakfast, we both grabbed, and all the strawber- 
ries spilt and neither of us got a single one. Now, if you’ll 
promise to grab fair, I’ll let you grab first, then I’ll take my 
grab; but mind, you must grab fair and leave me half. Do 
you want to try it?” 

Andy was so hungry he was willing to try anything. 

“Yes, if the Giant ever comes back, and we don’t die, I’ll 
try it.” 



































































































































The Giant VC^ho Lived in House JVdountain 

The Giant did come back, bringing the leaf heaped up 
with shining strawberries as he had the day before. Anne’s 
plan worked beautifully: they both had plenty to eat, with some 
left over, and felt better. 

There was a pool in the middle of the room, and after 
breakfast Anne caught sight of herself reflected in the clear 
water. 

“Oh!” she said. “I didn’t know I looked like that!” 

She bent down and bathed her face and hands, and then 
tried to untangle her hair. It took her three whole days to 
do it, but at last it was smooth and shining. 

“Why,” said Andy, “you don’t look ugly.” 

“You do,” said Anne. 

Andy didn’t like that, and pretended not to hear her. But 
when she wasn’t looking, he bent down over the pool, and did 
some scrubbing too. 

“You look quite well now,” said Anne. “Let’s go out and 
walk around.” 

They came upon the Giant sitting on the tip-top of his 
house, beating up clouds with a great spoon. 

“Why, what are you doing?” called out Anne. (She was 
not so afraid of him now as she was at first.) 

“Making a snow pudding,” said the Giant, smiling down 
on her. “I am expecting company to tea.” 

“I thought those were clouds,” said Andy. 

“They are, but they make delicious snow pudding when 
you know how to beat them up.” 

“Who’s coming?” asked Anne. 

“I was thinking of asking you and Andy,” said the Giant. 

[ 37 ] 


Howtobegood Stories 


“A little snow-cloud pudding would do you good. Will you 
come?” 

“Oh,” said Anne, “it would be lovely ! Can I help you get 
things ready? Let’s have it where we can’t see that bare place ; 
it’s so horrid to look down on.” 

The Giant laughed out his echoing laugh. 

“Why, that’s your own land, your Land-of-Don’t-Care. I 
thought you would like to have it in sight.” 

“Oh,” said Anne sadly, “I had forgotten it was my land.” 

The Giant did not say anything, but just smiled his smile 
that spread all over the house, and went on beating up the pud- 
ding. 

They had a lovely time, Andy, and Anne, and the Giant, 
and after supper the Giant took them on his knee so they could 
see all around and the sky above. Then he escorted them back 
to the guest-room. 

“To-morrow,” said the Giant, “you may not like it, but 
perhaps you’ll help me out.” 

“What do you mean, Giant?” asked Anne. 

“You’ll see,” said the Giant; and strode away. 

Early the next morning Andy and Anne were wakened by 
an awful squalling and squealing, and ow-ing and oh-ing — and 
in walked the Giant with his arms full of kicking, squirming 
creatures! He just dumped them down in the middle of the 
room and, without saying a word, strode out again. 

“Why, there’s Andy and Anne!” called out one of the 
creatures — a boy. 

“Hello! We wondered what had become of you. Got 
[ 38 ] 


The Giant Who Lived in House JVLountain 

any licorice sticks? Mine’s almost gone, and I’m awfully hun- 
gry. Here, now, give me one, or I’ll punch your nose!” 

“Goodness me,” called out another creature — a girl — 
“look at Anne with her hair all brushed! Thinks she looks 
very fine I suppose; but I don’t care!” 

“We’ll soon make her look like herself,” called out the 
boy, pulling at Anne’s long, smooth hair. 

“Stop that!” cried Andy, grabbing the boy’s hand away. 
“Don’t you hurt a girl!” 

In the Land-of-Don’t-Care when any one hurt Anne, Andy 
had always laughed, and made up a face, and said, “I don’t 
care; it doesn’t hurt me!” but now he did care a great deal, 
and it seemed to hurt him as much as it did Anne. 

“You needn’t think you can stop us from doing what we 
like,” called out all the boys, pouncing on Andy, and begin- 
ning to punch him. But Andy had grown so strong since he 
had stopped sucking licorice sticks, and taken to eating good 
food, he stood up against them all. 

The girls called out at Anne, “Stuck-up-Primpy ! Stuck- 
up-Primpy!” 

“Look!” was all Anne said, pointing down into the pool. 

They thought they might find something there they wanted, 
and looked in, but all they saw was the reflection of their own 
faces, dirty, ugly, cross-looking creatures with tangled hair. 

“We don’t care, we don’t care!” they cried; but way down 
deep, they did care. 

Well, they squabbled, and squealed, and pinched, and 
punched, all day. Just as it began to grow dark, the door 
opened, and in strode the Giant ! They were all so frightened 

[ 39 ] 


Howtobegood Stories 

they huddled together in one corner of the room, shaking and 
trembling from head to foot, and crying like babies. 

But the Giant didn’t notice them at all. He said some- 
thing to Andy and Anne, laughed his ringing laugh, and strode 
out. The squabbling began again, and kept up half the night, 
but toward morning the Creatures grew tired, and slept, though 
they did not have sweet dreams at all, and tossed about a great 
deal. 

The next morning one of the girls thought she’d just try 
washing her face, and brushing her hair, and see how it 
looked, and when Anne saw her she went over and helped. 
When they got through, the girl looked into the pool, and saw 
such a nice face reflected there, she actually smiled — and that 
made another girl go over and try it, and another, and another. 
And then after a while the boys thought they’d try it too. . 

It took a long time to get all the dirt off, especially the 
licorice around their mouths, but they scrubbed, and brushed, 
and untangled, for a week, and at last one morning when the 
Giant came in with breakfast he saw a lot of rosy, smiling faces. 
He was so pleased he jumped up in the air, and Anne . thought 
he would hit his head against the sky, but he landed safely on 
his feet, and without coming down on any one either. 

“Come, all of you,” he said, “this evening as soon as the 
stars are lighted, and we’ll have a party. Anne, you shall make 
the pudding — you remember how; and, Andy, you shall help 
me light up.” 

Just before it was time for the party to begin Anne went 
in and looked the other children all over. They had helped 
[40] 


The Giant Who Lived in House ^fountain 

each other dress, and they all had untangled, shining hair, and 
merry, happy-looking faces. 

That was the loveliest party any one ever went to. The 
snow pudding was ten times better than any ice-cream you’ve 
ever tasted, and set them all to singing and dancing. Then the 
moon came out and lighted the valley, and made the loveliest 
moving picture you ever saw. 

“Look, Anne,” said Andy, “look 'all around you, 
everywhere ” 

“Why,” exclaimed Anne, “there are flowers growing on 
the bare spot at the foot of your house, Giant! See, see!” she 
called to the others. “The-Land-of-Don’t-Care has disap- 
peared!” 

The Giant’s ringing laugh rang out. 

“We got rid of the Creatures, you see, and Fairy Spring 
was able to plant her seeds again.” 

They took hands and danced about the Giant, and after- 
ward they had another taste of snow pudding all round, and 
then the Giant said it was time to go. 

“Yes,” said the Giant, “you must go — each one back to 
the home you came from, before you wandered off to The-Land- 
of-Don’t-Care.” 

“Go? Leave House Mountain, and you, and snow pud- 
ding parties? We don’t know the way!” 

“You’ll find the path; there will be mothers and fathers 
waiting for you — they are nice things,” said the Giant. 

“They don’t let you do what you like,” said Andy gloom- 
ily. 

“Well,” said the Giant, “it depends on what you like, 

[40 


Howtobegood Stories 

Andy. Go and try it. You can always come up and visit me 
sometimes, you know.” 

“But it’s such a long way to get here from the valley,” 
said Andy. 

“Not as far as you’d think,” said the Giant, “after you 
once get started.” 

“No,” said Anne, “perhaps not; we’ll get used to the walk, 
I expect. Good-by, Giant.” 

“Good-by — good-by — it’s been the loveliest party in the 
world, and we won’t forget you,” said all the girls and boys, 
throwing kisses to him. 

“I shall miss you,” said the Giant, “but remember to come 
and see me, and we’ll have another party. Good-by — good-by 
— and don’t trample the flowers down when you get there — re- 
member I hate to look at bare places.” 

The moon had gone behind a cloud, but the Giant smiled 
his nice broad smile, and that lighted them all the way home. 

And sometimes when Anne had very hard lessons to learn, 
or Andy had trouble in planting the garden, they would look 
up at the Mountain, and the Giant would wave to them from 
his House. 


[42] 




THE SECRET OF THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE BED 

O NCE upon a time there was a little girl named Peggy, 
who had been told to get out on the “right side” 
of the bed. “Always get out on the right side of the 
bed,” some one had said, “and the fairies will make you good 
all day.” 

The day before she had been very naughty, and disobeyed 
her mother, and slapped her nurse, and her little sister Nancy, 
so she had to be sent to her room. She did not like having to 
stay upstairs all the afternoon — it was such fun to play out of 
doors; and she began to think of what she had heard about 
getting out on the right side of the bed. She made up her mind 
to try it the next morning. 

She remembered when she got up, and jumped out on the 
right-hand side. Every morning Peggy and Nancy had a swim 
in the bath-tub, always taking turns about going first. This 
morning it was Nancy’s turn, but Peggy began to cry, and 
say: 

“No, I want mine first. I’m going first — I am, I am! I 
sha’n’t get dressed at all if you won’t let me go first !” 

Her mother heard her crying and came into the room. 
“Very well, Peggy, go back to bed. If you begin the day 
[ 43 ] 


Howtobegood Stories 


crying we don’t want you downstairs with us. Go back to 
bed.” 

Peggy screamed and kicked — yes, I’m sorry to say kicked 
— when she was put into bed. Nancy went down to breakfast 
and Peggy had to stay upstairs all alone. 

“I did get up on the right side,” thought Peggy, “and I’m 
just as naughty as I was yesterday, even naughtier — the fairies 
didn’t help me. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake, and it’s the left 
side. I’ll try to-morrow.” 

In the afternoon she was allowed to get dressed and go 
out, but she felt queer inside all day, and though she did not 
kick or slap any one, she wouldn’t play what the other chil- 
dren wanted to, and was so cross no one liked her very much. 
She went to bed with the same queer feeling inside. 

The next morning, though, she felt better, and got up on 
the other side of the bed to see what the fairies would do for 
her this time. She took her bath and got dressed without cry- 
ing, and went down to breakfast. Mother felt so happy to have 
a good girl. 

After breakfast Peggy and Nancy were playing in the 
sand-box, making sand pies and cakes. They had a beautiful 
time at first; then Nancy took up Peggy’s shovel, and Peggy 
was so cross she hit Nancy with the rake right on the head. 
Nancy couldn’t help crying, it hurt so much, and when 
Mother came out and saw what Peggy had done, she had to 
send her to her room again ; because when you hit people, you 
know, you have to be sent off all alone where there is no one to 
hit. Peggy was so naughty she didn’t even think of the fairies, 
until she went to bed, and then she remembered them. 

[ 44 ] 


The Secret of the Right Side of the Bed 

“What is the matter?” she said to herself. “Yesterday I 
got out on the right-hand side of the bed, and I was naughty, 
and to-day I got out on the left-hand side, and I’ve been 
naughty again. I don’t believe there are any fairies anyway.” 

Just as she said this she heard a little rustling noise, and 
in at the open window came a fairy, riding on a butterfly. 
Before Peggy could speak, the fairy waved her wand, and said : 

“You who doubt that fairies be, 

Come with me and you shall see — 

Big or little, little or big, 

None should doubt that fairies live. 

Presto change, change presto! 

Now you’re small enough to go 
On the butterfly with me, 

All the wondrous sights to see.” 

Peggy began to shake all over, she was so frightened, and 
she felt queerer than ever inside. She wanted to call out to 
Mother, but the fairy held up her wand, again, and all Peggy’s 
voice was gone. 


“But you may not speak one word, 

Until all you’ve seen and heard. 

Presto change, change presto! 

Far from here you’ll have to go.” 

The moonlight coming in at the window made the room 
bright, and as the fairy picked her up and put her on the but- 
terfly, Peggy caught sight of herself in the glass— or what was 
left of herself, for, like Alice in Wonderland when she drank 

[ 45 ] 


Howtobegood Stories 


from the magic bottle, Peggy had grown very small. Only in- 
stead of having a beautiful dress made of flower-petals as the 
fairy had, and shining in the moonlight like a star, Peggy 
looked all dull and brown, the color of a mud-puddle. 

She tried to jump off the butterfly, but he flew out of the 
window so quickly, and sailed so fast through the air, all she 
could do was to hold on tight. Every time she tried to cry 
out the fairy waved her wand, and Peggy’s voice was gone. 

They flew on and on, over the fields and through the 
woods, all lighted by the moon, until they came to a beautiful 
garden filled with fairies. You remember the garden Polly 
went to with the Dream-Fairy? A garden like that. 

The fairies were dancing. The butterfly stopped, and the 
Fairy of Sun and Shadow (that was her name) stepped off his 
back and beckoned Peggy to follow her. All the fairies seemed 
to shine like stars, and Peggy looked so muddy and dark she 
wanted to hide away somewhere out of sight. 

“What will they say to me,” she thought, “coming to a 
party dressed like this?” She saw a beautiful little fairy, so 
bright and shining, she wanted to throw her arms around her, 
but the minute Peggy went near her the fairy faded away, 
and there was nothing left but a light where she had been. 

A little farther on there was another beautiful fairy, and 
Peggy went up to her. 

“Surely,” she thought, “this one will tell me where I can 
get a dress to wear to the dance.” 

But when she went up to speak to her, the same thing hap- 
pened— she faded away and only a ray of light was left. She 
[46] 




\ 



“SHE FADED AWAY, AND THERE WAS NOTHING LEFT BUT A 
LIGHT WHERE SHE HAD BEEN” 


[ 47 ] 





The Secret of the Right Side of the Bed 

kept on going up to each fairy in turn, and each one faded 
away, leaving behind a ray of shining light. 

“Just a minute ago,” said Peggy, “I was in a garden filled 
with flowers, and fairies dancing, and now I’m all alone, and I 
feel cold in my muddy dress, and I can’t get any other to wear 
to the dance, and even if I had a dress, there is no dance to 
go to.” 

But when she looked up, she saw, just ahead of her, the 
same fairies dancing. This time, she thought, instead of speak- 
ing first she would go up softly and take a fairy’s hand, and 
hold her tight before she could get away. 

But the same thing happened as before ; each fairy faded 
away, and only the ray of light was left. She had even been 
deserted by the fairy who had brought her, the Fairy of Sun 
and Shadow. 

“She made me feel queer inside, and wouldn’t let me speak 
a word, but I wish she were here now,” said Peggy. 

“Presto change, change presto! 

Far away you have to go.” 


A voice sounded in Peggy’s ear, and she was caught up 
again by the Fairy of Sun and Shadow, and put on the butter- 
fly. They flew on, and on. There seemed to be no end to the 
garden, and when the butterfly was thirsty or tired he rested 
on a flower and took a sip of dew. 

After a very long fly, they stopped again, and Peggy was 
put down under a fern. The dance was still going on, and the 
fairies were singing. 


[ 49 ] 


Howtobegood Stones 

“Oh, if I could only dance, and dance like these fairies, 
and never have to do what I don’t like!” Peggy thought. 

Although Peggy was not allowed to speak, the Fairy of 
Sun and Shadow could see her thoughts; by holding up a 
sunbeam, she could read them all. 

“Do you think we always dance?” asked the Fairy of Sun 
and Shadow. “Oh, no ; we only play when our work is done. 
We weave dreams for the children, we kiss the flowers and 
make them grow ” 

“Why won’t the other fairies speak to me?” said Peggy. 

“Because you drive them away,” answered the Fairy of 
Sun and Shadow. “You have pins sticking out all over you, 
and you are muddy, and fairies can’t live near mud.” 

Peggy began to get cross again. 

“Well,” she said, “it was your wand that made me muddy. 
I was all clean when I went to bed, but you came with your 
wand and made me all dirty.” 

The Fairy put up her wand again : 

“But you may not speak one word, 

Until all you’ve seen and heard. 


“You think you were clean until I waved my wand, but 
you are wrong. Your hands and face may have been clean, 
but you were muddy inside. The reason you are muddy out- 
side too is because the fairies, with their candles of sunbeams, 
can see right through you, and the inside shines out. You 
may speak once now, if you want to ask me any question.” 

“Tell me why,” said Peggy, “you didn’t help me? I got 
t.?o] 


The Secret of the Right Side of the Bed 

out one morning on the right side of the bed and was naughty, 
and the next morning I got out on the other side and was 
naughty.” 

“Oh,” said the Fairy of Sun and Shadow, “you thought 
it meant the right hand side. The outside doesn’t matter; it’s 
the way you are inside. You didn’t try to be good. That’s why 
we didn’t help you.” 

Just then the fairy turned a sunbeam into Peggy’s heart, 
and she understood it all. 

“How can I get the mud off?” cried Peggy. “O tell me. 
I’ll do whatever you say.” 

“I’ll give you a bath,” said the Fairy of Sun and Shadow; 
“and to-morrow morning, remember, either side of the bed is 
the right side, if your heart is open to the sunshine. Of course, 
you can’t expect everything to be easy always ; fairies don’t like 
things to be too easy — it’s no fun. Just go on trying, and the 
fairies will help you.” 

Peggy had a bath of sunbeams, and came out all shining. 
And after that she knew the Secret of the Right Side of the 
Bed. 


BILLY-FORGOT’ 


O NCE upon a time there was a boy who always “for- 
got.” He was six whole years old, and went to school 
where he learned A B C’s (you know what they are, 
don’t you?) and figures, and had a reader, so he really was old 
enough to remember sometimes, wasn’t he? But he just for- 
got. 

When you get to be six, of course, you can do ever so 
many things you couldn’t do when you were four or even five, 
and many of the things are great fun ; but there are other things 
people “expect of you” and that’s not so nice. Your sisters 
ask you to run upstairs and get something for them; and you 
have to have table manners; and remember to take off your 
hat when you meet ladies in the street; and you have to wash 
your face and hands before you come to the table. Then usu- 
ally some one — mother or one of your sisters — says, “Why, 
Billy, you’ve forgotten to wash your hands! Go right upstairs 
and do it.” When you want to get through dinner as fast as 
you can and go out to play it’s an awful nuisance. Mothers and 
sisters don’t seem to realize that washing takes time. Of course 
girls don’t mind: they like to dress up and wash their hands 
and faces, but to boys it’s a dreadful bother. 

Billy lived in an old town where there were nice, com- 
[?*] 


' 'Billy -Forgot 

fortable houses with plenty of places to play outside and room 
for a garden too. They had a beautiful garden at Billy’s; 
Mother took care of the flowers and Daddy looked after the 
vegetables. Ellen Elizabeth and Mary May, Billy’s two sis- 
ters, each had a garden, and Billy wanted one too, so Father 
gave him a patch to plant. 

“You must take care of it yourself, boy,” said his father; 
“water it, you know, and pull up the weeds so the good things 
will grow.” 

“All right, Daddy,” said Billy. 

There was a great deal of talk that summer about feed- 
ing the nation. That means that each person that had any land 
should plant something to eat so that there would be enough 
food for every one in our own country, and some to send to 
the poor soldiers who were fighting across the sea besides. 

“That’s fine,” said Billy; “I’ll feed the nation!” 

“We must remember to keep the gate shut now that the 
garden is planted, so that the old black cow won’t get in,” 
Mother said. 

“All right,” said Billy. But that very morning he left it 
wide open when he came home from school, and was mad 
when Ellen Elizabeth sent him back to shut it. “I forgot,” he 
said. 

“Did you post my letter, Billy?” asked Mary May. “You 
know you said you would.” 

“Oh, I forgot,” said Billy. “You girls are always fuss- 
ing over something!” 

When he met people he knew on the street he never took 
off his hat — he “forgot.” That’s the way it was about every- 

[S3l 


Howtohegood Stories 


thing; if it had been that he just forgot sometimes you might 
have excused him, but it seemed that he forgot all the time. 

One day Billy’s father had to go awav. He was on some- 
thing called a “Commission.” 

“It’s the same thing you are doing, Billy,” said Daddy; 
“trying to raise food enough for our own people and the poor 
hungry people across the ocean too. So be sure you do your 
part here, and let me see a fine garden when I get back. And 
remember, you’ll be the only man of the family while I am 
away, and must take care of Mother and the girls.” 

Billy felt very proud to be called the Man of the family. 
They all missed Daddy very much; in the evening especially 
it was lonesome when he didn’t come home. The Commis- 
sion had a great deal to do and he was gone a long time ; but 
one evening Mother got a letter saying, “I shall arrive to-mor- 
row afternoon on the six o’clock train, and I needn’t tell you 
how happy I shall be to get home again.” 

The next morning they were making all sorts of plans. 
They would all go to the station to meet Daddy, of course, 
Mother said, and would start at half-past five. They would 
have beaten biscuit and his favorite dessert for supper, and 
Ellen Elizabeth and Mary May had lettuce and radishes from 
their own gardens for him. So they talked happily at break- 
fast. 

Billy ran off down the hill to school, leaving the gate wide 
open behind him. He didn’t know his reading at all, and when 
his teacher asked him why, he said, “I forgot.” When he came 
home from school he saw a telegraph boy on the porch just 
about to ring the bell. 


[54l 


‘ ‘Billy -For got 

“I’ll take it,” said Billy. 

“Deliver it right off,” said the boy; “it’s a telegram.” 

“All right,” said Billy. 

Just as he got into the hall the telephone rang. It was 
The-Boy-Next-Door who wanted to know if Billy would come 
over and play. Billy stuck the telegram in his pocket, threw 
his school bag down on the table, and went off. He got in 
late to lunch. 

“We were playing and I didn’t know the time,” he said. 

“Well, goosie,” said Mary May, “you could have asked, 
couldn’t you?” 

“I forgot,” said Billy. “You mind your own business 
and don’t go butting in!” 

After lunch Mother said she was going out to pick some 
fresh flowers. 

“It’s like a regular party having Daddy get home, isn’t 
it?” said Ellen Elizabeth. “Let’s all go out and help.” 

“Oh — oh — oh!” cried Mother as they came into the gar- 
den. “All my lovely flowers and the vegetables that I’ve been 
watching so carefully for Daddy, trampled down!” 

“It looks as if a cow had been in here !” exclaimed Mary 
May. 

“Yes,” said Ellen Elizabeth, “there are the footprints; but 
how could she have got in, we are always so careful about the 
gate?” 

Billy stood looking very unhappy. “I forgot,” he said. 

There was nothing to be done about it, and Mother didn’t 
scold. She just went into the house, saying, “Be ready to start 
at half-past five.” 


[ 55 ] 


Howtobegood Stories 

You might think that Billy “forgot” to be ready, but he 
didn’t ; he seemed to be able to remember the things he wanted 
to do. They started gaily off for the station. The train was 
exactly “on time” and they felt a little thrill as the engine 
came puffing in. 

“Where is he?” said Billy. 

“You can’t expect him to get off before the train stops, 
dear,” said Mother. 

“It has stopped now,” said Ellen Elizabeth. 

“Maybe he’s down at the other end,” said Mary May; “I’ll 
go and see.” 

Mother was looking at both ends and in the middle. One 
person after another got off but no Daddy. 

“Where is he? Where can he be?” said the girls. 

“He said he was coming, and he always does what he 
says,” said Billy. 

Mother looked worried. Could he have missed the train, 
she thought? No, because then he would have sent her a tele- 
gram. Was he ill? 

“Well,” she said in a quiet tone, “there is nothing to do 
now but go home.” 

Instead of a “party” it was a very forlorn supper, and they 
went to bed early; except Mother, who sat waiting for a tele- 
gram. . . . 

Morning came and they went down to breakfast. Mother 
looked tired and pale. 

“Don’t you feel well. Mother darling?” asked Ellen Eliza- 
beth. 

“No, dear; I have a headache,” said Mother. 

[< 6 ] 


' ‘ Billy-Forgot 

“You’ve been worrying about Daddy,” said Mary May, 
putting her arms around her. “Poor Mother !” 

“I’ll take care of you, Mother,” said Billy. 

“Thank you, Billy,” answered Mother with a little smile. 
“Will you shut the gate when you go to school?” 

“All right,” said Billy. 

Just at that minute a car drove up, the door opened, and 
there stood Daddy! 

“Oh, darling!” “Why, Daddy!” and Mother and Ellen 
Elizabeth, Mary May and Billy all rushed into his arms. 

“What did happen?” asked Mother after the first hug was 
over. “I’ve been so worried I haven’t slept all night.” 

“Why, didn’t you get my telegram, dearest? I sent it early 
yesterday telling you I should not be able to get home until this 
morning.” 

“No telegram came,” said Mother, “that I know of. 
Jake,” she asked the old butler, “do you know anything 
about it?” 

“No’m; ain’t no one telegramed you dat I knows of.” | 

Billy suddenly looked very much ashamed. 

“Oh,” he said, putting his hand into his pocket and draw- 
ing out a dirty yellow envelope, “I forgot!” 

“That’s rather a serious matter, young man,” said Daddy in 
his stern tone. “But here I am now; tell me all about every- 
thing. How does your garden grow, Mistress Mary,” he 
asked Mother. 

“It has been doing very well,” said Mother, “but — er ” 

“We have lettuce and radishes for you,” said Ellen Eliza- 
beth and Mary May. 


[ 57 ] 


Howtobegood Stories 

“And how about you, Billy; what have you done toward 
feeding the nation?” 

“My things didn’t come up very well,” said Billy. “I for- 
got to water them.” 

That evening at supper it was like a party, for Daddy was 
home and the next day would be Saturday and there wouldn’t 
be any school. 

The next morning Billy started off early. He was going 
to spend the day with The-Boy-Next-Door and he’d told him to 
come over right after breakfast. But when he got there The- 
Boy-Next-Door had gone out. 

“That’s queer!” exclaimed Billy. “He told me to be sure 
to come early. He said he’d be back soon though, didn’t he?” 

“No, suh, young ge’man,” said old Aunt Betty, smiling at 
the kitchen door, “he didn’t say nothin’ ’bout cornin’ back. I 
speck he done forgot. His mammy say he won’t be home for 
dinner.” 

Billy was so disappointed he almost cried, only he didn’t 
want Aunt Betty to see him, so he managed to keep back the 
tears, and went home. 

“Mother,” he called when he got in, “Mother, don’t you 
think The-Boy-Next-Door is the meanest thing? He asked me 
to lunch and then went off!” 

No one answered. Jake came out into the hall. 

“They’s gone, Massa Billy. Yo Mammy and yo Daddy 
and de young ladies.” 

“Gone where?” asked Billy in great surprise. 

“Off in de automobile on a picnic ; yo Daddy say ’twas to 
celebrate his gettin’ home.” 

L58] 


‘ ‘ Billy -Forgot 

“But they didn’t say anything about it this morning! Why 
didn’t they tell me?” 

“I dunno, Massa Billy; I reckon dey forgot.” 

Billy rushed out into the garden, flung himself down on 
the spot where his potatoes should have been growing and 
cried. Yes, though he was six and a boy, just plain cried! 

“The-Boy-Next-Door invited me to spend the day and then 
w-went off,” he sobbed; “and Mother and Daddy, and Ellen 
Elizabeth and Mary May have g-g-gone on a picnic, and 
never said a w-word about it, not a-a word and ” 

“They just forgot!” 

“You go on away, Jake, and leave me alone.” 

“Who said anything about Jake? I said they just forgot.” 

“Well, who’re you?” asked Billy, kicking out with both 

legs. 

“7 am 7, 

Or maybe me, 

Or possibly, too, 

I may be you.” 

“Well, go on, anyway,” said Billy. He lay there with his 
face in his hands. 

“Billy forgot, 

Billy forgot, 

Oh, such a lot, 

Oh, such a lot.” 

There was a tap like a hammer on his head. 

“Stop that!” 

“Don’t you want it mended? Excuse me, I thought you 

1593 


Howtohegood Stories 

did. Never mind, then, Yellow-Hammer, you needn’t stay.” 
“What are you talking about?” 

“Billy forgot, 

Billy forgot, 

Oh, such a lot, 

Oh, such a lot. 

There’s a hole in his head 
And it all drops out, 

And that’s what the trouble 
Is all about. 

“See, here's a whole basketful IVe picked up: telegrams, 

and potatoes, and lessons, and ” 

“Out of my head?" 

“Yes— 

“Billy forgot, 

Billy forgot, 

Oh, such a lot, 

Oh, such a lot.” 

“Who are you?” 

“I am I, 

Or maybe me, 

Or possibly, too, 

I may be you.” 

“You are me , or possibly you?” 

“No, / or possibly you , not me” 

“Oh, did any one ever hear such nonsense!" 

[60] 


‘ ‘Billy-Forgot 

He felt something brush against his cheek, and looked 
around. There perched on his shoulder was a fairy with bright 
eyes and a laughing face ; on her arm was a basket. 

“Where did you come from?” asked Billy, growing more 
surprised each minute. 

“I live here in the Garden-of-Remembrance — over there 
among your mother’s hollyhocks and Sweet Williams and cin- 
namon pinks. I saw that hole in your head when you were 
planting your patch, but I thought you might be able to mend 
it yourself before it got any bigger.” 

“All right,” said Billy. 


"All right, all right, 

Says Billy, and then 

Never thinks of a thing again. 

“Don’t you see it all drops out, and every time the hole 
grows bigger, and bye and bye you won’t have any head at 
all.” 

“Gee, I wouldn’t like that! You must keep your head; 
I heard Daddy tell Mother so when he was teaching her to 
drive the car. If there really is something the matter I would 
like to have it fixed.” 

“It will hurt, you know,” said the fairy; “but if you do 
really want it mended, and will keep still and not cry, I’ll call 
Yellow-Hammer back and see what he can do.” 

She gave a little call that was like a bird’s note and Yellow- 
Hammer flew on top of Billy’s head. He began to pound: 
hard, and a little harder, and harder still. It made Billy squirm, 

[61] 


Howtobegood Stories 


but the fairy started saying in her quick little voice, “Billy 
forgot” — which made him keep still, and finally the pounding 
stopped. 

“A splendid piece of work, Yellow-Hammer,” said the 
fairy. 

“Sorry to have been such a long time about it,” said Yel- 
low-Hammer, “but it was a very big hole.” 

“All right,” said Billy, feeling his head to make sure there 
was no hole left. “Thank you.” 

“Ah,” said the fairy, “you’ve remembered your manners. 
That’s a good sign.” 

“Say, what about the family? Don’t you think it was 
pretty mean of them to go off that way and never tell me a 
word about it?” 

Billy put his hand up quickly and rubbed his eyes ; he felt a 
tear and didn’t want it to fall before the fairy. 

“Billy forgot, Billy forgot! Didn’t you upset everything 
yesterday? Why should they specially care to have you go 
motoring with them? They would have had to stop every few 
minutes to pick up the things that dropped out of your head.” 

“Oh, I didn’t think of that. But look here, won’t you 
please tell me who you are?” 

“7 am 7 ” 

“There you go again! Why don’t you answer me?” 

“Well, you see I’m not sure that you really want to know 
me, though I’m quite worth knowing, I assure you.” 

“Stuck on yourself, aren’t you, like Ellen Elizabeth and 
Mary May? I would like to know you though, honestly.” 

“I am Fairy Remember. It’s very hard to make my ac- 
[62] 






















































































































































































































































‘ ‘Billy -For got 

quaintance, especially for boys, but when you know me better 
I think you will grow to like me.” 

“As a rule,” said Billy, “I don’t care much for girls, but 
I believe I would like yoli, Fairy Remember; and I’ll bring 
The-Boy-Next-Door over and introduce him to you.” 

“I should be delighted to meet him,” said Fairy Remem- 
ber. She spread her wings. 

“You aren’t going, are you? It’s awfully lonesome here.” 
“I’ve got some more work to do, but I’ll come to see you 
again, and you can always find me when you want me, you 
know,” she said in her quick little voice — and was gone. . . . 

Billy sat there with his head in his hands thinking it all 
over; then he got up and began to dig in his garden. 


[65] 


THE WITCH-PRINCESS 


O NCE upon a time there lived in a dark forest, a Witch! 

Her hair was scraggy, and her nose was so long it 
touched her mouth, and her chin was so pointed it 
pricked like a pin. Her hands were skinny and looked like 
claws, and she had little bits of eyes that looked right through 
you, and made you feel cold all over. 

She lived in a chocolate house with a sugar door and sugar 
windows, and when you first saw it you would have said, 
“How good to eat!” (provided the Witch had no.t been there 
to frighten all thought of eating out of you). But the choco- 
late had grown so stale, and the sugar so hard, you could not 
have bitten off even a bite; which was very lucky for her, but 
disappointing to you. She rode on a broomstick, as all witches 
do, and the only good thing she ever did was to “brush the cob- 
webs out of the sky.” Even that she often neglected, which 
made the days very cloudy. 

There was not a single flower near her house, for the min- 
ute she looked at a flower it faded away and died; so there was 
just a heap of dead leaves around the door, and the grass was 
all withered. She didn’t know how to smile or laugh, only to 
make a terrible noise in her throat, “Ha-ha-ha!” and then the 
whole house would shake, and so would you if you had heard 
[ 66 ] 


The Witch -Princess 

it. She ate pickles, and drank vinegar, which made her very 
sour. 

One day a little boy and a little girl, Bobby and Betty, 
went out to pick daisies in a field near their house. It was a 
big field full of beautiful white daisies, and they were very 
happy picking the flowers, and playing hide-and-seek in the 
long grass; but after a while Bobby said: 

“I’m sure the daisies in the field over there are prettier 
than these. Come along, let’s go and see.” 

“All right,” said Betty ; “but I think these are very pretty, 
and you know we were told not to go too far away.” 

“Oh, well,” said Bobby, “that isn’t too far away. Come 

on.” 

The daisies in the next field were prettier, and they were 
bigger, and there were more of them. But in the field just be- 
yond, some yellow daisies were growing with black centers, 
and when Bobby saw those he said: 

“Look, look, Betty! Did you ever see such beauties? 
Hurry up before some one else finds them! We just have to 
cross that brook, and go a little farther, and we’ll be there.” 

It seemed pretty far to Betty, but she didn’t want Bobby 
to think she was afraid to go, so they started. They got across 
the brook, but the field still seemed quite far away. 

“Come on,” said Bobby. (He was always saying “Come 
on,” Betty thought, and she always seemed to go whether she 
wanted to or not, just because he said so.) “Come on, we’ll take 
that little path instead of going around by the road, and then 
we’ll get the loveliest daisies in the world. No one will have 
such daisies as ours. Let’s run.” 

[67] 


Howtobegood Stories 

So they took hands and ran. 

They ran so fast they didn’t see where they were going, 
till all of a sudden they bumped into a big tree and the side 
of the tree opened, and they fell in — fell right in, and through, 
on to the other side. It was a pretty hard bump, and Betty felt 
very much like crying, but she knew if she did Bobby would 
laugh at her and call her a “cry-baby,” so she kept back the 
tears and sat up. Bobby was bruised too, but he was thinking 
so much about his daisies he didn’t care, and got up to pick 
them. But — instead of the yellow daisies dancing in the sun, it 
was black all around them: a thick, thick wood, so thick they 
couldn’t see any blue sky at all. 

“Oh, Betty !” he said, as he took hold of her hand. “Betty, 
where are we? And where are the daisies? And, O Betty, if 
I weren’t a boy I’d cry !” 

“It’s so dark, Bobby,” Betty cried, “and we are so far 
away; I’m afraid.” 

And just as she said that they heard a terrible sound: “Ha- 
ha-ha!” 

“Come quick — we’ll go through the tree again! Come, 
give me your hand, Betty.” 

“Oh!” sobbed Betty. “I’m afraid!” 

And again they heard the terrible sound, “Ha-ha-ha!” 
They tried to go through the tree, but it wouldn’t open, and 
there was no other way out. 

Just then they saw a little house, made of chocolate, and 
while they were wondering what they could do, the top of the 
house flew off and out came the Witch, riding on a broom- 
stick, and calling out: 


[ 68 ] 































N 









A 




































1 







I 






t 



/ 

V 
















rt 




• : 


*' » * \ ; 



* ./ 

< 

- 






r 





S 

r 


-» 


















































The "Switch -Princess 

“Ha-ha-ha! 

Ten little children all in a pot, 

Boiling, boiling, boiling hot! 

Pickles and vinegar are all very nice, 

But I like better sugar and spice. 

Sugar and spice and children sweet, 

Round and plump and good to eat. 

Ten little children all in a pot, 

Boiling, boiling, boiling hot. 

Ha-ha-ha!” 

Well, you can just imagine how frightened they were! 
They couldn’t think of anything to do but cover up their faces 
and cry. But Bobby remembered just in time that he was a 
boy, and must take care of Betty; and covering up his face 
wouldn’t do any good at all. Betty tried hard to be brave too, 
though she was shaking all over. 

“Go away!” said Bobby. “Oh, please, please don’t put us 
in a pot all boiling hot.” 

“Who speaks?” said the Witch, coming down on her 
broom-stick. “Ha, two little children! And you’re afraid of 
me, aren’t you?” 

“Oh!” said Betty, “please, please listen to Bobby, and 
don’t eat us up. Bobby is brave.” 

And as she said that the long, long nose of the Witch 
began to grow shorter, and her eyes got bigger, and she tried, 
she really did try to smile; though she didn’t know how at all. 

“Oh,” she said, “will you kiss me, little boy? And will 
you put your arms around my neck, little girl? Oh, will you?” 

Well, that was pretty hard, to kiss an old thing like that, 
for her chin was still sharp like a pin. I think if there had 

f7il 


Howtobegood Stories 

been any place to run to, they would have run away, but there 
was a big splash of water, and Betty looked up and saw the 
old Witch crying — crying tears as big as waves, and Betty was 
so sorry for her, she put her arms around her, and Bobby 
kissed her. 

And what do you think happened? There was a sound 
like something cracking, and they looked up and there stood 
a fairy, a beautiful Fairy * Princess with golden hair, and a 
smile like sunshine! And she said in the sweetest voice: 

“Oh, my blessed children, you have saved me. I wasn’t 
intended for a Witch, I was born a beautiful fairy; but I used 
to get very cross sometimes, and cry and slap people, and be 
afraid of things, and one day I was so horrid the Fairy Queen 
turned me into a Witch, and said I should have to stay one 
till some little child who was brave would kiss me. 

“And now I am a fairy again and all the flowers will grow 
around me, and the chocolate house will be good to eat. And 
I’ll take you home through Fairyland, where you shall see the 
fairies dance, and whenever you are afraid or cross, just think 
of me.” 


[72] 


“DICKEY-DIDN’T-MEAN-TO” 

O NCE upon a time there was a boy who never meant to 
do anything. He would upset his milk at breakfast, 
step on the gray kitten’s tail, leave his toys lying 
around on the back porch, where Father would stumble over 
them when he locked up at night, come in without wiping his 
feet and track mud all through the house, bang doors in- 
stead of shutting them, and wake Mother up when she was 
taking a nap, borrow things from his big brother and lose them; 
and always he said, “I didn’t mean to.” 

On warm afternoons Mother used to have tea in the gar- 
den. Jane always arranged the tea-table with the silver tray, 
and the cups and saucers, and a mahogany stand beside it 
with sandwiches and pink cakes, out in the summer-house. 

Dickey and ‘‘the boys” were allowed to play all over the 
lawn, down in the apple orchard, on the back porch, every- 
where but in the garden. Boys, you see, have a way of not 
thinking and are apt to trample down the flowers, so Mother 
had to make a rule that they couldn’t run and play “hide” in 
the garden. 

One afternoon the Bronsons telephoned they would mo- 
tor over and drop in to tea; so Mother told Jane to have 
plenty of sandwiches and cakes, for they would probably be 

[ 73 ] 


Howtohegood Stories 

hungry after the ride. Dickey was not interested, but his big 
brother was, because the Bronson Girl was coming, and he got 
all dressed up by half-past four — which Dickey thought very 
foolish. Dickey had “the boys” there that afternoon and they 
were having an exciting game of hide-and-seek. Jimmy Jinks 
was “It.” Dickey saw the tea-table all ready in the summer- 
house, but forgot what Mother had said about playing hide in 
the garden and rushed in pell-mell to get a good place before 
Jimmy got up to “five-hundred-by-fives.” He didn’t look where 
he was going, ran into the tea-table, smashing cups and saucers 
and spilling the tea and cream, and knocked over the stand, up- 
setting all the sandwiches and pink cakes. 

Mother and the Bronsons were just coming out for tea, 
and John and the Bronson Girl were behind them. 

“Gee, Kid,” said John, “what on earth are you doing 
here?” 

“I didn’t mean to,” said Dickey. 

Mother felt very bad about her pretty cups and saucers, 
but she couldn’t say anything then. 

“ ‘No use crying over spilt milk,’ ” she laughed. “Dickey, 
you and John pick up the pieces, and I’ll see if Jane has some 
more sandwiches and cake for us.” 

There were very few pink cakes left, for Dickey and 
“the boys” had been in the pantry “tasting,” and the Bronson 
Girl was so polite she took only one cake, which worried John, 
for he knew she liked them and really wanted more. 

Soon after that, Dickey wanted to play baseball, and John 
said he would teach him how. He showed him the way to hold 
the bat, and go at the ball, and gave him some points on “home 

[ 74 ] 


‘ ‘ Dickey-Djdn 't-JVlean- To” 

runs.” Dickey practised all the time, he was so anxious to 
be a “crack player” some day. 

It was a rainy afternoon and John was sitting in the swing 
reading a very exciting story, “Treasure Island” — when you 
get to be a “big brother” you’ll read it — and Dickey was 
flourishing his bat around. 

“Be careful how you swing that bat on the porch, Kid!” 

But Dickey was so interested in the game he paid no at- 
tention to John till he heard him exclaim: “Great Guns!” and 
saw him tumble over on to the floor. 

“I didn’t mean to! Did I hurt you, John? I didn’t mean 

to — I didn’t mean to Come quick, somebody! John won’t 

sit up and he won’t speak to me and there’s a big lump on his 
head!” 

Fortunately Father was in his study and heard Dickey 
call. When he came out he saw what had happened. 

“Dickey, ask Mother to come down.” 

Mother bathed the poor head, but the lump seemed to 
grow bigger every minute, and still John didn’t speak. 

“I didn’t mean to — I didn’t mean to,” cried Dickey. 
“Please open your eyes and say it’s all right.” 

“This looks serious,” said Mother. 

Dickey couldn’t bear it. He rushed upstairs to the gar- 
ret, where he always took refuge when the world went wrong, 
and flung himself down between the cedar chest and a pile of 
old books. Probably John would die and never call him “Kid” 
again, or show him how to do the things big boys could do. 
He longed to go downstairs and see if he had opened his eyes, 
but John would not want to look at him if he did. No one 

[751 


Howtobegood Stories 

would want such a dreadful boy as he was around, and no one 
would ever want to speak to him again. He’d better just stay 
where he was. 

The old books had a musty, comforting smell. He could 
hear mice scampering around, and there was a great spider 
spinning a web from one of the rafters. Miss Muffett sat near 
by, eating her curds and whey, but she didn’t notice Dickey. 

“Breaking heads is pretty serious, ^ isn’t it? I found that 
out the day ‘Jack fell down and broke his crown.’ ” 

“Your Mother whipped you, didn’t she, for causing Jack’s 
disaster? I think it was pretty mean of her when you didn’t 
mean to.” 

“It hurt just as much as if she did mean to.” 

“Yes, and Mother said that I must bear the consequences.” 

“Bear the consequences? What does that mean?” asked 
Dickey. 

“I don’t know exactly — I haven’t had much to do with 
those long words yet — but I think it means taking what comes 
when you do things you shouldn’t.” 

“Oh, yes.” 

“I felt awfully sorry for you the evening you came up 
here after you had smashed all those cups and saucers, and I 
wanted to tell you a few things; but Jack said I was just a girl 
and you were different, and it wasn’t the same thing at all ; so 
I kept still.” 

There was a scream and Dickey jumped up. 

“Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to.” 

“No, that’s Miss Muffett — she doesn’t like the spider.” 

[ 76 ] 



‘“I THOUGHT YOU WERE A BOOK, MOTHER GOOSE,’ SAID DICKEY” 

[ 77 ] 





































































4 







Dickey-Didn t-J^lean- To' 

“ You’re an awfully nice girl, Jill, and I wish you had told 
me some things. Now it’s too late! John will die ” 

“I don’t know,” said Jill. “Vinegar and brown paper will 
do a good deal; but ‘I didn’t mean to’ doesn’t help very much.” 

“No, indeed,” said Old Mother Hubbard, shutting the cup- 
board door with a bang; “where would my dog have been if I 
had said that?” 

“Well, you found him dead when you got back from the 
baker’s.” 

“Don’t be impertinent!” said Mother Hubbard, limping 
away and calling her dog after her. 

“I can’t make it out,” said Dickey. “If I said I will kill 
John, I will break the cups and saucers, I will spill my milk, 
and bang doors, and track in mud and do all the things I 
shouldn’t, then I might be able to help it; but when I don’t 
mean to ” 

“I’ll tell you,” said a dear, grandmotherly-looking old 
lady; “you try thinking beforehand instead of excusing your- 
self afterward. I believe you’ll get on better.” 

“Yes, Mother Goose. But oh, I’m so afraid John will die !” 

“There, there, child,” said Mother Goose, in a quiet, com- 
forting tone. 

“I thought you were a book, Mother Goose,” said Dickey, 
putting his head down in her lap. 

“Well, well, child. ...” 

“Why, here you are with your head on a pile of old books,” 
whispered Mother, bending over him. “Poor little Dickey 
Boy! I couldn’t leave John before, but I’ve come to find you 
now because I knew how miserable you’d be.” 

[ 79 ] 


Howtobegood Stories 


“Is John dead? Oh, is he dead?” 

“No ; it was a very bad knock, but he will get well. Come 
downstairs quietly; he’s gone to sleep.” 

Dickey got up from the floor. 

“Remember . . .” said Mother Goose. 

Dickey went down very quietly. 

It was several days before John got well, but Dickey waited 
on him and ran errands for him, and brought him good things 
to eat, and was always very careful to think “before” instead 
of “after.” 

“Why, Kid,” said John, “you’re improving! Cheer up, 
old boy, we’ll have some good baseball yet.” 


[80] 


BARBARA AND THE WAVE FAIRIES 


B ARBARA stood on the beach, watching the waves. She 
wanted very much to go into the water, but did not 
dare. If only the waves were not so big, and would 
be quiet a little while, not keep coming in, coming in, all the 
time, then she might venture, she thought; but they never 
stopped. Always, always, they rolled in with that roaring 
sound, and she was afraid if she went far into the water a big 
wave might go all over her. 

It was early in the morning, and no one was on the beach. 
In the sky there were great white, fleecy clouds, the kind the 
fairies sail on, and the water was a deep, deep blue, and all 
sparkling with sunbeams. Still the waves came in — Barbara 
went a little nearer to the water. It looked so cool, if only 
those waves would be still ! She kept walking out a little far- 
ther, and a little farther, not seeing how far she was going, 
until she looked up suddenly, to see a wave coming toward 
her so fast, she could not get away from it. But as it came she 
heard a voice from somewhere say: “Don’t be afraid; I won’t 
hurt you; I just want to kiss you.” And the wave went over 
her, but she stood there, just the same, and was not a bit hurt, 
only nicely wet and cool. 


Howtobegood Stories 

And the Voice said again: “Didn’t you like that kiss? 
Come out a little farther and get another.” 

“What kiss?” said Barbara. “And where are you?” She 
looked around but no one was there. 

“Come out, come out,” the Voice cried again; and the 
Voice was so sweet, and the water so cool, Barbara walked a 
little farther. 

Another wave went over Barbara, and the Voice cried: 
“Now come out beyond where we break — what you people 
call breaking; we don’t really break at all, we just dance on 
to the shore and back again to the sea. But come and jump 
over us.” 

It looked a good way out, but Barbara did not want to be 
a coward, so she went, where some one seemed to be beckon- 
ing her though she could not see anybody. A great beautiful 
wave came rolling in, and the Voice cried, “Jump!” and Bar- 
bara jumped and the wave went on without wetting her at all. 

“That was fine,” said Barbara. “I’d like to do it some 
more.” 

Then another wave came, and another, and Barbara 
jumped them all. Oh, it was such fun! 

After Barbara had done that for some time, the Voice said : 
“Now put yourself out on the water, and move your arms and 
legs, and you’ll stay on top of the wave.” 

“Take my feet off the bottom?” asked Barbara, a good 
deal frightened at such an idea. 

“Yes, right off,” said the Voice. 

“Is that what they call swimming?” asked Barbara. 

“Yes,” said the Voice. 


[82] 



“SHE WANTED VERY MUCH TO GO INTO THE WATER, BUT DID NOT DARE” 

[ 83 ] 




Barbara and the "SK^ave Fairies 

“But I don’t know how.” 

Oh, never mind,” said the Voice. “Just work your arms 
and legs as I tell you, and you’ll be all right.” 

So Barbara, not frightened now exactly, but curious to 
see what would happen, put herself out on the water and 
worked her arms and legs; and it was just as the Voice said 
— she stayed on top of the waves, riding gaily along. Oh, how 
beautiful it was, and how much nicer than standing on the 
shore, wishing she could go in. 

“Now,” said the Voice, “you’ve proved you’re not a little 
coward-sit-on-the-shore, and you shall know all about us.” 

“All about whom?” asked Barbara. 

“You’ll see,” replied the Voice. “Is any one on the beach?” 

“No,” said Barbara, “not a soul. No one is up yet, just I. 
I got up with the sun this morning. It was so lovely out of 
doors.” 

“Then we’ll go on the beach, while I tell you. Jump on 
and ride in.” 

“Jump on where?” said Barbara, very much mixed up by 
all this strange talk. 

“On to the wave, of course; there, that’s all right.” And 
just then a great big wave came and took Barbara right on 
to the beach. 

Barbara was rather surprised but not the least bit hurt, 
and when she looked up she saw, stepping out of the white 
and green foam, a beautiful fairy. Barbara had seen some 
fairies before, the flower fairies, and the wind fairies, and the 
cloud fairies, but she had never seen one like this. This fairy 
had eyes that danced like the sunbeams on the water, and looked 

[85] 


Howtobegood Stories 

sometimes deep blue, and sometimes green, like the green in the 
waves just before they dance on to the shore. Her hair was 
the color of sea-weed, when it is fresh and wet from the sea. 
She had a necklace of sea-shells around her neck, and a crown 
of sunbeams on her head, and her dress was made of white sea- 
foam. When she moved toward Barbara, she made a sound like 
the waves — not like the waves on the shore, but the rippling 
sound they make against the rocks. Barbara thought that she 
was the loveliest fairy she had ever seen. 

“Oh!” she said. “Who are you? Where did you come 
from? How beautiful you are !” 

“I am queen of the wave fairies,” she answered, “and it 
was my voice you heard calling to you. I’ve seen you on the 
beach a good many times, when all the people were there, and 
you never dared to come in. I’ve seen your mother trying to 
make you go in, and I’ve seen you run away crying. Some of 
the wave fairies’ feelings were hurt because you ran away from 
them, and a big boy fairy lost his temper and wanted to knock 
you down, but I begged him not to ; I said if he had patience, 
you’d love us after a while. So this morning when I saw you 
standing here, I thought I would call to you gently, and I knew 
if you once saw how merry we are, you’d like us.” 

“And do you live on the waves always?” asked Barbara. 

“Yes, always on the waves ; we are wave fairies.” 

“But you don’t always dance in the sunshine,” said Bar- 
bara. “One day last week it rained, and the sea was all gray. 
There wasn’t a single sunbeam dancing.” 

“Yes,” said the fairy; “sometimes the waves do look sad, 
and they might frighten you if you weren’t brave, they are so 

[ 86 ] 


Barbara and the ^Fave Fairies 

big and high; but we never mean to hurt you, and if we are a 
little rough sometimes, you must forgive us. Some of the big 
fairies like the great high waves to ride on, you know. Now, 
I must go back to the sea and you must go home, but I’ll be 
waiting for you to-morrow.” 

“Don’t go,” said Barbara. “Please stay a little longer. 
Won’t you come home with me?” 

“No, thank you,” said the fairy. “I must go back to my 
waves, and if I should come into the house, my dress of foam 
would wet the floor. You must come out to me when you 
want to see me. Good-by.” And before Barbara could stop 
her, she had gone back on a wave that took her far away. 

But after that morning Barbara always loved to go into 
the water and play with the wave fairies, and they were very 
kind and careful of her when they could be, and although 
sometimes a big wave would knock her down, she learned to 
get up again and laugh, and all the wave fairies loved her. 


[ 87 ] 


THE BOY WHO LIVED UNDER A DUMP-HEAP 


O NCE upon a time there was a boy who lived under a 
dump-heap. It would be bad enough to live on top of 
one, but this boy lived underneath, with all the dump 
on top of him, and it was so heavy he couldn’t move at all, 
and he had to stay crouched up on his hands and knees. How 
do you suppose he got there? Well, it was this way — 

His name was Tommy, and he was born in a nice house 
with comfortable rooms arranged very charmingly by his 
mother. When he got big enough to sleep in a bed instead of 
a crib, and have a room of his own, Mother gave him one of 
the nicest in the house. 

Tommy’s room had Mother Goose pictures all around the 
border. There was Old King Cole and his Fiddlers Three, 
Ding-Dong Bell, A-Diller A-Dollar A Ten O’Clock Scholar 
(to remind him to get to school on time), Hot Cross Buns, and 
a lot of others. He had a desk of his own, with a chair to go 
with it, a bookcase where he could have all his story books, 
“Black Beauty” and “The Jungle Book” and “Andersen’s 
Fairy Tales” and “The Wonder Book” and “The Merry Ad- 
ventures of Robin Hood” — all the stories he liked best. He 
had a bureau with plenty of drawers to keep his things in: 
handkerchiefs and neckties, shirts and collars and underclothes. 
[ 88 ] 


The Boy ^W^ho Lived Under a Dumft-Heaft 

And there was a nice big closet where he could hang his suits 
and keep his shoes, and a clothes-basket to throw the clothes in 
that were to go to the wash. There was a reading-lamp on the 
table and a big comfortable chair beside it — everything, in fact, 
that a boy could possibly want in a room. 

If the furniture had been white and gold with light blue 
coverings, you wouldn’t have expected him to like it; he 
would have felt it was a “sissy room” and wouldn’t have cared 
how soon the light blue coverings got dirty; but this was a 
real boy’s room, with good solid furniture, where you could 
be comfortable and happy. 

He didn’t have to sweep it himself, or make his own bed ; 
just turn back the covers when he got up in the morning and 
put away his things after he got dressed. As he had never had 
a room all his own before, his mother didn’t expect him to learn 
at once to put his things away, and she was very patient about 
reminding him — often even picking up collars and handker- 
chiefs herself, or putting shoes back in the closet with heels 
against the wall. But Tommy never even noticed that she had 
“cleared up” for him, and kept on leaving his things around 
just the same. 

Mary made his bed and “tidied up” every morning. 

“Indade, indade, and nivir did I see the loikes o’ that bye 
fer throwin’ around his things ! Now there’s his very best suit 
on the floor of the closet, a stocking under his bureau, and his 

shoes way under the bed Sure me back is broke trying to 

pick them up.” 

“Don’t pick them up, Mary; just leave them where they 


are. 


[89] 


Howtobegood Stories 


“Ah, sure, mum, he’s only a child. I don’t really mind at 
all.” Old Mary might grumble about Tommy herself, but she 
always stood up for him when other people complained, for 
she had taken care of him when he was a baby. 

“I know; but this can’t go on! Why, every one in the 
house is worn out clearing up after him — and no thanks for it 
either! His mother has tried ‘example’ (that means showing 
how) and ‘precept’ (which means teaching how) and neither 
one has done any good. Now I’m going to take him in hand.” 

Mary looked around surprised. She had thought it was 
Tommy’s mother speaking, but it was a little bit of a person in 
a frilled cap and gingham apron. 

“Well, Saints above !” cried Mary, quite frightened. “And 
who are you, may I be askin’?” 

“I’m Miss Tidy, a daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Straighten- 
Up, and I’m sick and tired of seeing that careless, thoughtless 
Tommy around. You’ve done enough this morning. Why, it’s 
taken you as long to straighten up this room as it would to 
do all the other rooms in the house put together. I don’t won- 
der your poor back aches. You go down to the kitchen and 
get a nice cup of tea, and leave that boy to me.” 

“Sure, it’s a nice tidy little body you are, Miss, and thank 
you kindly,” said Old Mary; “but it’s bewitched I think I am 
after being meself,” and she went downstairs mumbling. 
“Saints above, and did ever you know the loikes o’ that!” 

When Tommy came in from school he threw his school 
bag on the bed instead of hanging it on his desk chair where 
it would be all ready for him when he had to study. He was in 
a hurry to get out and play Prisoner’s Base. He took off his 
[90] 


The Boy W/' ho Lived LJnder a Dumft-Heaft 

school suit, throwing it on the closet floor, and kicked off his 
shoes, sending one under the desk and the other under the 
bookcase. Then he couldn’t find his play suit, so he pulled all 
the things out of his drawer on to the floor, to get the one he 
wanted. 

That’s the way it was every day. 

The next morning Old Mary came in as usual to straighten 
up, but Miss Tidy was there before her. 

“No, Mary, go along; remember what I said. Leave that 
boy to me — I’ll attend to the room.” She shook her broom, 
and Old Mary went off. 

In the afternoon when Tommy was out, his mother came 
into the room, and was horrified to see what a state it was in. 

“Why, the bed has not even been made but just left as he 
got out of it this morning! What is Mary thinking of?” 

She was just going to ring the bell when Miss Tidy 
popped out from Tommy’s clothes closet. 

“Don’t ring. It’s not Mary’s fault ; I sent her away. You 
haven’t forgotten me, have you? I’m Miss Tidy; I used to talk 
with you a great deal when you were a child. And I’ve made 
a number of calls on your husband, too, but he never received 
me as graciously as you did.” 

“Oh, yes; I remember you very well. You helped me a 
great deal when I was a girl.” 

“Now,” said Miss Tidy, “if you’ll just give orders for no 
one to come in here and straighten up, and promise not to put 
anything away for Tommy yourself, I will attend to the rest.” 

“Oh, if you could help him I should be so thankful — and 
I’ll do just as you say.” 

[91] 


Howtobegood Stories 

At the end of the week you never in your life saw such a 
looking place as that room of Tommy’s was. Scraps of paper, 
books thrown on the bureau, the brush and comb on the desk, 
collars and old apple-cores on the bookcase, neckties, shirts, 
shoes, and stockings, in every direction, and the bed-clothes all 
in a wad as he left them when he got up in the morning. 

Saturday afternoon he was going to a ball game — a very 
exciting one between the two rival teams — and Mother and 
Father were going too. He could hardly wait to start. 

“You must take your sweater, Tommy,” said Mother; “it’s 
cool and you’ll need it coming back.” 

Tommy rushed upstairs to get the sweater. He looked in 
the closet, under the bed, even in the bathroom; but it wasn’t 
to be found. 

“I won’t need it,” he called out. 

“Yes, you must have it,” said Father. “We’ll walk along, 
and you can catch up with us.” 

“You’re not going to any ball game to-day, young man,” 
said Miss Tidy, looking in at the door; “you’re going where 
you belong!” 

She gave him a poke with her broom which sent him over 
backward. You would never have thought that a little thing in 
a frilled cap could have knocked a boy of eight over so easily ; 
and before he could get up on his feet the bed-clothes were 
dumped on top of him. There followed shoes, stockings, hand- 
kerchiefs, books, brushes, combs, neckties, underwear, coats, 
and shirts — everything under the sun ! Tommy was completely 
buried. He wriggled and tried to get out, but he couldn’t 
move, and the weight of it all nearly broke his back. It felt as 
[92] 


The Boy ^C^ho Lived Under a Dumfi-Heaft 

heavy as it did to poor Old Mary when she had to stoop down 
and pick the things up. 

At the last Miss Tidy jumped on top of the pile and 
pounded it down. 

"You’ve been trying to have a dump-heap for some time,” 
she said. “Now you’ve got what you want and can feel per- 
fectly at home and comfortable.” 

She left him and shut the door. As she went downstairs 
she put a card on the hall table: 

Don’t worry about Tommy ; he’s gone away for a while to a place 
just made for him. The change may do him good. You’ll miss him, 
of course, but just leave it all to me. 

Yours, 

Tidy Straighten-Up. 

When Mother and Father got in they called Tommy. He 
didn’t answer. Mother had been worried because he had not 
caught up with them, but Father said he had probably met some 
of the boys and gone to the game with them. 

Tea-time came, and no Tommy! It began to grow dark. 
Mother telephoned to the houses of all the boys Tommy played 
with, to know if they had seen anything of him ; no, they hadn’t 
seen him since morning! Could anything have happened? 
Had he been run over by an automobile? Where could he be? 

“Why, what’s this?” said Father, taking up the note Miss 
Tidy had left on the hall table. 

Mother read it and handed it to him. 

“Oh, we need not worry if he’s gone to visit her, dear,” 
[ 93 ] 


Howtobegood Stories 

said Mother, much relieved. “She’s a great friend of mine, 
and I hope you’ll come to know her well some day too.” 

All this time Tommy was under the dump-heap, wrig- 
gling and trying to get out. He had always been pretty good 
at making himself heard, but though he called at the top of 
his voice no one came. At first he thought he was in his own 
room under the bed-clothes, but by the second day he thought 
he had been in a landslide and that a whole town had fallen 
on top of him. And each morning more dump would be 
dumped on the heap. You see, Miss Tidy went all around the 
house at night with her candle and" a basket, collecting the 
things he had left about in the other rooms. 

“There’s some more to make you feel comfortable and 
home-like,” she would say. 

He did not starve to death, for Miss Tidy poked something 
in at him every night: half a muffin, or an old apple-core, he 
had left in his pocket ; stale chocolates he had bitten into, and 
then thrown down on the library table because he did not like 
the flavor inside; and sometimes there would be a big piece of 
chewing-gum Miss Tidy had found stuck under his chair in 
the dining-room. Not hearty meals but enough to keep him 
alive. 

Well, two weeks went by, and Tommy’s mother began to 
feel pretty lonely without him. 

“I think we’ll go in and clear up his room, anyway, Mary; 
it’s in such a dreadful mess.” 

“He prefers it that way.” 

“What did you say, Mary?” 

“I didn’t speak, mum.” 


[ 94 ] 


cf.‘ (cUl(ymii,tua mm 


i((n[[ (ifr nW/( 'K >" < « 

hi 



‘“OH, MOTHER, WHY DIDN’T YOU GET ME OUT OF THIS BEFORE?’ 


[ 95 ] 


HtV 


































































4 




t 







































































































The Boy ^$7ho Lived Under a Dumfi-Heaft 

“What a looking place, Mary! It looks like a big dump- 
heap!” ^ 

Mary picked things up by the armful till her poor old 
back ached, and Mother worked just as hard; yet they never 
seemed to get to the end. 

What a pity to spoil his dump-heap! He enjoys it so 
much; it’s the only place where he really feels at home.” 

There you go again, Mary. What are you talking 
about?” 

“I didn’t speak, mum,” said Mary, looking alarmed. 

Mother took up another great armful of things, and a 
voice cried out: 

“At last! Oh, Mother, I’ve had an awful time! Why 
didn’t you get me out of this before?” 

Old Mary stood staring in terror at the thing that crawled 

out. 

“I thought ghosts were white, mum, and not so solid! I 
never see the loikes o’ this!” 

Tommy crawled toward them on his hands and knees. 
There was a piece of chewing-gum stuck on the end of his 
nose, chocolate creams smeared all over his face, and muffin 
crumbs in his hair. 

“I’m not a ghost, Mary, but I don’t know why I’m not 
dead.” 

Miss Tidy peeped in through the door. 

“Let him limber up a bit, and get a bath, and then he’ll tell 
you all about his lovely visit.” 

“Lovely visit, nothing!” cried Tommy indignantly. “I re- 
1 97l 


Howtobegood Stories 

member you; you’re the one who did it Just wait till I 

get hold of you I” 

“I’ve left some clothes in the bathroom for you, and when 
you’ve had your bath and dressed, you can come in and get your 
room to rights — unless,” she added, shaking her broom at him, 
“you prefer to go back to your dump-heap.” • 

“Give a fellow time,” said Tommy; “I’m going.” 

He came out clean and shining and did really get to work 
with a will to clear up his room, though it was pretty discour- 
aging, I must say. He worked so well that after a while Miss 
Tidy and Mother helped him. They made his bed and cleared 
up his bureau drawers. 

“I know,” said Miss Tidy, “you can’t expect boys to be 
smart enough to put things right in the beginning, but when 
they are once in order they certainly ought to be able to 
keep them straight. Now I think every thing is in ‘apple-pie 
order.’ Brush your hair and go down to tea with your mother. 
I’ll look in on you from time to time — and if you should ever 
feel lonely for the dump-heap, just let me know!” 

“Don’t talk to me any more about dump-heaps,” said 
Tommy. “I’ve had enough, thank you!” 


[98] 


THE PRINCESS WHO LIVED IN A GLASS HOUSE 


O NCE upon a time there was a princess who lived in a 
glass house. It was all made of glass. The walls, the 
floors, and the ceilings were of glass. She had a glass 
chair to sit on. Even her dresses were made of spun glass. 
The only thing she had that was not glass, was a great dia- 
mond stone, which she wore in her golden hair. 

But all the glass looked out. There was not a piece of 
glass in the whole house that she could look into, to see if her 
hair were tidy, or how her newest gown became her, or if her 
face were clean. It did not worry her much, 'though, because 
she was so proud and haughty. She thought no one in the 
world could look as well as she did. Other people might have 
untidy hair, or dirty faces, but she was quite perfect, she 
thought. 

She used to sit in her glass chair and look out on the world 
with her nose in the air, proudly glad that she was not like 
other people. No one ever came to call. She sat there look- 
ing so haughty, no one dared to go near her. 

Every one who drove through the King’s park noticed the 
glass house and the Princess sitting within, and it was pointed 
out to Lords and Princes who came from other lands, as a 
great curiosity. But no one had ever dared to go inside. They 

[ 99 ] 


Howtobegood Stories 

were all frightened away by the haughty glance of the Prin- 
cess; and people felt so cold as they drove by, that they had 
to put on their coats, even in summer. 

It gave the haughty Princess great delight to have every 
one look at her curiously and not dare to approach her. She 
felt so very grand, and sO different from all the rest of the 
world. 

One day she saw the Prince, who lived in the castle up on 
the hill, riding by on his white horse, and her nose came down 
just a little. But he rode galloping by, and did not even turn 
his head to look at the house. 

The Princess never stepped her foot outside her glass 
house. She thought really that no other place was good enough 
for her. But away down deep, there was another reason: she 
was afraid. 

Once she had lived in a house like other people, but she 
had always been discontented, and one night when every one 
was asleep, she wandered away into the woods. She came to 
the pond where the trees look down and see themselves in the 
moonlight; and there, just by the edge of the water, stood a 
fairy. Her dress was of shimmery mist, she had moonbeams 
glimmering in her hair, and her wand was all of little stars. 
She was looking down into the pond singing softly to herself; 
but as the Princess came near she looked up, and waving her 
wand, said — 

“Through silver clouds the moon shines bright, 

And this is the magic Wishing Night; 

Your dearest wish tell unto me, 

And as you wish, so shall it be.” 

[ioo] 


The Princess ^C^ho Lived in a Glass House 

The Princess stood very still. She was so surprised that 
she thought for a minute she must be dreaming, but again the 
fairy waved her wand and said — 

“Through silver clouds the moon shines bright, 

And this is the magic Wishing Night; 

Your dearest wish tell unto me, 

And as you wish, so shall it be.” 

“Oh !” said the Princess of the Discontented Heart. “May 
I really have what I want?” 

The fairy bowed her lovely head, and the moonbeams 
danced in her hair. 

“But think you well before you say. 

Wish not hastily, I pray, 

For once your dearest wish is spoken 
It cannot e’er be changed or broken.” 

“Everything is wrong,” said the Princess. 

“Everything?” asked the fairy, in a silvery voice. 

“Yes,” replied the Princess of the Discontented Heart, 
“everything, and everybody, but me.” 

“Ah,” said the fairy, looking at her a little sadly, “you 
are the Princess who lives in a glass house; I have heard of 
you.” 

“Nay,” the Princess answered, “I do not live in a glass 
house, but I should like to. Then people could see how much 
better I am than the rest of the world, and no one would bother 
me.” 

[ioi] 


Howtobegood Stories 


“Is that your wish?” asked the fairy, “to live in a glass 
house by yourself? 


“Think you well before you say. 

Wish not hastily, I pray, 

Remember once your wish is spoken, 
It cannot e’er be changed or broken.” 


“Yes,” said the Princess, stamping her foot impatiently, 
“I know what I want. That is my wish: To live in a glass 

HOUSE BY MYSELF WHERE I CAN LOOK OUT ON THE WORLD, AND 
NO ONE CAN COME IN.” 

The Fairy of Wishes looked at her again sadly, as sadly 
as a fairy can, and a tear glistened in her deep blue eyes, like 
a star shining in the sky. The summer breeze sighed faintly 
through the trees, then all was still. 

Once more the fairy raised her wand of little stars. 

“Take your wish and go your way, 

Night will soon be lost in day. 

In the King’s park you will find 
The house of glass you have in mind. 

Enter in and dwell you there 
Untroubled by a single care, 

Sitting in your house of glass, 

Haughtily eying all who pass. 


But one thing remember well, 

It is as the wise ones tell, 

People who live in houses of glass 
Must not throw stones at those who pass. 
Take your wish and go your way. 

Night will soon be lost in da}r.” 

[102] 



“‘HE SHALL STOP!’ SHE CRIED” 


[103] 













The Princess ^C^ho Lived in a Glass House 

Again the summer breeze stirred the leaves, sighing faintly. 
A path of moonlight shone on the water, and the Fairy of 
Wishes glided away, leaving behind a shimmering mist. 

So for a whole year the Princess had lived in her glass 
house, glorying in her pride. But after the King’s son went 
galloping by that day, she had a queer little feeling in the place 
where her heart should have been. 

It did not last long, though. She held her head more 
proudly than ever when the Queen drove by in her chariot, a 
few minutes later, pointing out the Princess in her glass house 
to a royal Duke who had come from foreign lands. 

A month passed, and the Prince again rode by. This time 
the glass house shone so brightly in the sunlight, and the robes 
of the Princess glittered so dazzlingly, that he turned his head 
and just glanced at her as he galloped on. 

And again she felt that queer little feeling in the place 
where her heart should have been. 

“Why did he not stop and look at me as every one else 
does?” she said to herself. “He is so proud. I’ll make him 
stop next time !” 

Several months went by before the Prince passed that way. 
He was returning from a far journey and rode more slowly 
than was his custom. His beautiful white horse was weary 
with long traveling, and he himself was thinking of many 
things. 

It was just at sunset, and the spun-glass robes of the Prin- 
cess reflected the rose-pink of the sky. She saw the Prince ap- 
proaching. 

[105] 


Howtobegood Stories 

“Surely now he will stop and look at me. I am so beauti- 
ful,” she thought. But he did not even turn his head. 

She rose angrily from her chair and took a step forward. 

“He shall stop!” she cried. “The proud creature, I’ll make 
him change his haughty ways !” 

She raised her hand and seized the great diamond stone 
that gleamed in her golden hair. The Prince was still in sight. 
With all her might she threw the stone at him. There was a 
shattering of glass, a scream from the Princess, and the Prince 
turned. There lay the Princess in the midst of the broken 
glass, her face and hands all bleeding. 

He got down from his horse and went to her. 

“Let me help you,” he said, and he lifted her gently and 
put her on his horse. 

“Oh !” moaned the Princess, “my house is shattered and 
nothing is left. Alas, alas, it is as the fairy said : 

‘People who live in houses of glass 
Must not throw stones at those who pass.’ ” 

“Nay,” said the Prince, “fear not. I will take you to my 
castle on the hill.” 

“You are kind,” murmured the Princess, and it was the 
first time in all her life she had ever spoken a gentle word, 
“but leave me, I have nothing left.” And she wept. 

The Prince looked at her tenderly. The pain from her 
wounds was so great she closed her eyes, forgetting everything, 
and they rode on in silence. 

On the way to the castle, they passed the little pond, and 
[106] 


The Princess ^ZZho Lived in a Glass House 

there the Prince stopped, and laid her on the grass, while he 
got water to bathe her wounds. 

The sun set, and the moon came out from a silver cloud. 
Over the pond rose a mist. 

“My poor Princess !” he whispered, “let me take you to 
my castle on the hill, and love you, and heal your wounds.” 
The Princess opened her eyes and smiled at him. 

“But I have nothing to bring you,” she said. “I am no 
better than other people.” 

“I love you as you are now. You are more beautiful than 
you were in your house of glass. Come !” 

He lifted her on to his horse again, and they rode away. 
The shimmering mist floated after them, and a falling star 
kissed the golden hair of the Princess. 

So the Prince brought her to his castle and they were 
married. All the people round-about grew to love the Prin- 
cess, as they did the Prince, and she was called The Lady of 
the Bountiful Heart. 


“I CAN’T!” 

O NCE upon a time there was a boy, George Leigh Pres- 
ton, who lived all alone in a big house with his 
grandfather. It was an old red brick house with 
white pillars, where Grandfather had lived when he was a little 
boy, and a lot of other grandfathers called “ancestors” had 
lived when they were little boys. 

It was very hard to see how Grandfather, whose hair was 
so white, and who didn’t run or climb trees, could ever have 
been a little boy. But even if he couldn’t run or climb trees he 
was very nice as a grandfather — especially on winter evenings 
before bed-time when he sat in front of the big open fire in 
the library and told stories about all the people that had lived 
at Mulberry Hill. That was the name of the old place, “Mul- 
berry Hill,” because it stood on a hill and there were old mul- 
berry trees all about the house. Of all the stories, George Leigh 
liked to hear best about the dashing Major Preston, who hung 
on one side of the fireplace, and his lovely bride, the beautiful 
Lady Emily Leigh, who hung on the other side. 

Grandfather said that Major Preston was a real man who 
had lived at Mulberry Hill long ago, and that he had brought 
Lady Emily Leigh to live there after the Revolution, when he 
had driven away all the “Red-Coats” and had been wounded 

[108] 


“/ Cant' 

fighting gallantly. And ever since then Prestons had lived 
there honorably doing their part in all that came. “Doing 
your part” means doing whatever you have to do, you know, 
and not putting it off on some one else. Grandfather used to 
say that George Leigh must always remember he was a Pres- 
ton and do his part when he was a man. 

George Leigh’s mother and father had died when he was 
a tiny baby. Mammy, who was old now, took care of him, and 
“Aunt Malindy,” who was very old, “did de cookin’,” and 
“Uncle David,” who had the “rheumatiz” and was very, very 
old — older than Grandfather — “tended de flowers and fed de 
chickens.” 

George Leigh didn’t mind playing by himself. He used 
to have beautiful times riding his stick-horse and pretending 
he was Major Preston going after the “Red-Coats.” If you 
have ever ridden a stick-horse you know what fun it is, and if 
you haven’t, just cut a good, long stick and try it. George 
Leigh kept his horse in a corner of the old barn where Grand- 
father’s horses were kept. Grandfather did not like an auto- 
mobile; he liked his two black horses. They were getting old 
too, but they still held up their heads and curved their necks 
and did credit to the family. 

I suppose George Leigh was what you would call “spoilt.” 
He wasn’t a horrid little boy, but he just never took the trou- 
ble to do anything for himself. He did not even put on his 
own shoes and stockings, though he was five, and tall for his 
age. 

“Oh, I can’t do that,” he would say; “you do it, Mammy,” 
[109] 


Howtobegood Stories 

and old Mammy would do it, though it was much harder for 
her to pull than for him. 

If he wanted to make a bridle for his stick-horse and there 
was a knot in the string, he never tried to get the knot out him- 
self ; he would run to Aunt Malindy. 

“I can’t do that — you do it, Aunt Malindy.” 

Sometimes he liked to go with Uncle David into the gar- 
den when he tended the flowers. 

“I am going to pull up all the big weeds, Uncle David, 
because I am a big boy and stronger than you and I haven’t 
got the rheuniatiz.” 

“All right, honey, I’se gwine ter weed de rose-beds what 
yer granddaddy lobe so. Thar’s a big weed yonder, but I reckon 
you too little to pull that thar one, it’s mos’ as big as a tree.” 

“No, no; let me do it.” 

George Leigh pulled, expecting it would come right up — 
but it didn’t. 

“I can’t do that, it won’t come up! You do it, Uncle 
David ; I am going to ride my stick-horse.” 

So it was with everything. If George Leigh had had 
other boys to play with, they would have called him a “baby” 
and a “lazy-bones,” and he would have felt ashamed, but he 
was all alone, you see, and just didn’t think anything about it. 

Once an old lady who had come to virit at Mulberry Hill 
had said to Grandfather, “You will spoil that boy,” and Grand- 
father had said, “He is just a boy and all I have.” But from 
the way the old lady shook her head and said, “A great mis- 
take, a great mistake!” George Leigh thought she was very 
cross and did not like her at all. 

[no] 


“I Cant ” 


The long summer days passed, and the autumn days, when 
the wheat and corn were all gathered in, and winter came. 

One evening before supper, when it was cold outside and 
the wind was blowing, George Leigh rode in on his stick- 
horse and opened the library door. He wanted Grandfather 
to tell him a story, but Grandfather was not there. The fire was 
blazing on the hearth and Grandfather’s chair was before the 
fire-place. 

“Where’s Grandfather, I wonder?” he said to himself, 
curling up in the big chair and kicking off his shoes to be 
more comfortable. “I wish he would come, I want him to tell 
me a story!” 

He sat listening to the wind outside and watching the logs 
blaze up. There was no other light in the room. 

“I wonder,” he said again, looking up at the pictures of 
Major Preston and Lady Emily Leigh, “I wonder— I won- 
der ” 

He did not know how long he had been “wondering” when 
he saw the dashing Major put his hand on his heart and bow 
very low to the beautiful Emily Leigh. 

“May I have the honor?” he said, holding out his other 
hand to her — the one that was not on his heart. She bent 
her lovely head and smiled and they stepped out of their old 
guilt frames. The sighing of the wind outside changed into 
the tune of an old minuet, and together with stately tread 
they danced. But in the midst of the dance a bugle call 
sounded — Lady Emily looked frightened. 

“I must away,” said Major Preston. “ ’Tis the call to 
arms! It may be the Red-Coats are coming.” 

[in] 


Howtohegood Stories 


“Not yet — oh, not yet!” said Lady Emily Leigh, putting 
her hand on his shoulder. “You can’t go!” 

“I must, dear Lady,” said Major Preston. “A Preston 
may not say, ‘I can’t!’ ” 

He bent down and kissed her hand and then, his sword 
clanking behind him, he was gone. 

The fire died down and the room was almost dark. It was 
very quiet; only the wind outside blew with the sound of a sigh. 
Lady Emily stood looking far away. She tried very hard not 
to cry, for she was a brave lady, but one tear rolled down her 
cheek. 

“Don’t cry, Lady Emily,” said George Leigh. “I’ll get on 
my horse and ride after him and bring him back to you. Just 
wait till I pull on my shoe.” 

“You can’t do that, little George Leigh.” 

“Why, of course, I can; I am five. Just wait Now 

I’ll mount my horse. Oh, my bridle is knotted, but I’ll get the 
knot out.” 

“No, no,” said Lady Emily, another tear rolling down her 
cheek, “you can’t do that; and even if you could, you could 
not ride over that great tree.” 

“That’s not a tree, Lady Emily; it is just a weed — I’ll pull 


it up.” 


“No, you can’t do that,” Lady Emily said again. 

George Leigh was sorry for Lady Emily but he began to 
feel cross with her for saying all the time, “You can’t do that, 
you can’t do that !” What did she think he was — a baby? — that 
he could not put on his own shoes, and untie a knot, and pull 
up a weed. 

[112] 



“ ‘I’LL BRING HIM BACK, LADY EMILY,’ HE CALLED. ‘I CAN!’” 

[113] 




“I Cant ’ 


He put his shoes on easily. The knot was harder to untie 
but he got it out. The weed did seem like a tree when he came 
to pull, but he kept on pulling and pulling, and again another 
pull, and up it came ! He mounted his horse. 

“I’ll bring him back, Lady Emily,” he called. “I can!" 

Just then a big log blazed up and filled the room with light. 
There was a firm tread outside and Major Preston came in. 
His uniform was torn and one arm hung loose at his side, 
wounded. Lady Emily went toward him. 

“My brave Major,” she said, “I salute you!” and she gave 
him a kiss. Then she turned to George Leigh, putting her 
hand on his head: 

“And you, George Leigh, you, too, have proved yourself 
a man. I salute you!” And bending down she gave him a 
kiss. 

As a rule George Leigh did not like to be kissed, but just 
one from the lovely Lady Emily he did not mind. 

“I wonder — I wonder ” 

“Bless ma soul, if dat chile ain’t been in his granddaddy’s 
big chair fas’ asleep, and he’s done kicked off his shoes!” 

George Leigh sat up very straight. 

“Come, honey,” said Mammy, “it’s time for yo’ supper. 
Wait, I’ll put on yo’ shoes— you can’t do it yo’self.” 

“Yes, I can, Mammy ! I can do lots of things.” 

“Bless dat chile,” said old Mammy, “he gwine to be a big 
man, I do b’lieve!” 


[US] 


W147 




















* 


* * "°* *<P\ * * 1 "* * *^r 

v^' *••«•*- 4 o^* «**o* *> <y w ,*••* c> 4 <y ***0* %> “v ••vi/’* 

V A* .VVa*. A V *VSlK'* **W A* /aV^* ^ A* *V£ 

<♦ :4ifi§U ^ : mMm°. %& °M3m r 'imm* **? ;Jf 

v °jw^* ***%, : .»gf.* iw.“ ^v. wj 

^ •* A ^ ^ V <|V <£* * ^^) v 4 A V 1 ^ w <£y j* • ^ 

.A/-*/,..., v^ / .-• ,\ " * * V . • • • . •’/.-. ,\ '• ■ ■■ * 

{ £.%>/ &S|&: ”W C M’ V °*JM: ^W 6 .‘Mg': 'W 

W .ov, :1S§>J i?vv "^W§§: A 0 * *.©l^»* j? 

0** n? "V vP*"?** A 5 * «v, VT*S^*‘ ft 9 "V **vP?7»* „A> ^ o' 5 




p ...V^V ^ 



% '••*• .<V 
°0 vj. ,° *-" * * 
; **0 / •■ 

J- 0 ^ 


• V 


• M O 


0^ 

C° f ‘ 

*0* "c V v 0 

.-V VW ,? - 

A&r-X A'j^X' m ' <f 

1 o I /iSfc W /* v *- ^ -♦ 

T> . £, u ♦V/722?,* «*> 




0* 6 . ' • *£> % '" * ‘ * ^ . ■ • ' - • . "V^ * * V*. * . . /* 

' *J& W&+ °.„ jv .V^StuC. "v. c , 0 *W^* 





** \ •,®‘ .^'V <?\ °.fglP. : > v *v 

r * 1 > .. ^ ..v * * * >v - • : v ’ “•/ .5^* V' * * v*. ^ * • .v •*•>.—. ^ 


*5°* 


: v-o 4 .‘ 


4°* 


• K 0 


°, ^ 


w pu°- J> %>. "♦<^?l , ** e 'o. *• 

fes* %/ •^ sfer * ^ <* 


** 0° 


TfPP v 6* <* 

*>o« .‘i 


aV<\ 

‘ ♦♦ ^ 


°- \</ 


* <£ > ' s % ° 


* 

» A *& 


**v 

* .** v-- 


%1? 


■*°* -.WiRV- ^ V 


of* <2* 


•* .0° 

,V '%*\ v/ ' 
* <A 








'*' 1 ‘ i4 T *?& * • • • " a; 

• \y »•’*'* * 

•• •»: \/ ‘ 


a 

* ^ 

, v <, ‘-‘TTV*' 0^ 

: :^K- ^ .v^- 

‘ /\ •3w ; /'°‘- ; .v*&n 


• * • " A®’’ * « I 1 * * ^ 'O, ‘ » - '■'- • 


• •* 






❖ V *v 


^ 'JxM&s j? ^ *yj«K‘ *v .I® ■s« u ^. '.yrnw* 

> .-iSi-.V <^>-rMk.°^ ^••5saifc% t^.l 000: °° •&’’ •^sit ' 

V :4w= ”•»»* *aaK* ■"«’ :4fe: 


BOOKBINDING 

Crar>tville, Pa 




^o. . 

e«. 


*: 


-> . mnMr . ^ 

■^ 5 , <r.K C> 

0 * v % ••’* ... *?fe 


« tt ® 




